


Crossover AU Prompts

by Pigzxo



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Shadowhunter Chronicles Fusion, Alternate Universe - Supernatural (TV) Fusion, Alternate Universe - Teen Wolf, Crossover, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-24
Updated: 2017-05-21
Packaged: 2018-06-04 06:13:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 27,965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6644530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pigzxo/pseuds/Pigzxo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Various crossover prompts given to me on my tumblr (wellimhavinga3outof10day) featuring Mickey and Ian from Shameless US.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Warlocks & Shadowhunters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Mickey is a warlock. Ian is a Shadowhunter. For a mission, he and the other Shadowhunters need the help of the warlock. At first, Ian doesn't like Mickey but as he starts to get to know him, he falls in love with him.

The lab in the Chicago institute was set up in an abandoned subway station. High, curved concrete ceilings made every word echo in the space. The lab looked tiny in comparison of the space. A handful of microscopes sat on metal tables, surrounded by a walk-in freezer, a glass case of samples, and a raised table meant to hold bodies.

            Ian sat on that table now, flipping his stele in the air. He had half a mind to draw a couple of runes on his skin just for fun – strength, speed, maybe beauty. As soon as Debbie got the result on what kind of demon they were dealing with he planned to be out of there. It was bad enough to have Frank and Monica in town begging to be admitted to the Institute – to have them doing that and trying to marry him off to a human was something else altogether. So he’d take the risk and blow off some steam. It wasn’t like the rest of the family didn’t know already.

            “It’s too old,” Debbie said. She stepped back from the microscope and turned to Ian. “Whatever kind of demon this was, it was ancient.”

            “Ancient?”

            Debbie nodded. “These things don’t break into our world on their own. They need help.”

            “Help?”

            “Warlock help.”

            Ian swore. Warlock involvement meant that he needed to call Fiona and Lip back in, start off right away. If a warlock was breaking the Accords, that meant there was serious hell to pay. Especially if they were breaking the Accords in order to send demons after innocent people.

            “Based on the age of the demon, we’re talking about a very old warlock,” Debbie continued. “Your best bet is to speak to the High Warlock of Chicago and see if he knows anything.”

            “You think he did it?”

            Debbie shrugged. “Anything’s possible.” She paused and then added, “Can I come along? You might need me.”

            Ian ruffled her red hair and then laid a kiss on her forehead. “You know we need you here. You’re the only one who can do this sort of stuff.”

            “Besides Lip.”

            “It’s to keep you safe,” Ian said, his voice no-nonsense. He gave her a parting hug and said, “Thanks for the info.”

            She gave him a half-hearted salute.

***

            The Institute sat invisible on top, glamoured as an abandoned house. There were kids that liked to play ding-dong ditch and see if the ghosts would come out. Every once in a while Carl liked to scare them with the use of an invisibility rune – a huge violation of the Law, but trying to get Carl to follow the Law was like trying to get a fish to breathe air.

            Fiona insisted on full gear for the mission, just in case the High Warlock was the one summoning demons to attack humans. So they dressed all in black. Ian swung a quiver over his shoulder and stuff Seraph blades into his boots. He did get to redo his strength and speed runes, as well as a few others for good measure. Then he, Lip, and Fiona headed out into the streets.

            No one could see them, but everyone dodged out of their way as if by instinct. Ian always hated the feeling of the glamour, hated feeling invisible. But on nights like this, when in the darkness people bumped into people they could see, he saw the advantage of stalking through the streets without being seen.

            They came upon a small apartment building, only four stories tall. Fiona pressed the buzzer for the top floor and was immediately rung in. She said, “Stay close. Look for signs of a summoning – a pentagram, candles, herbs. Remember that we’re here to ask for help, not to accuse him of anything. He’s the High Warlock of Chicago and he outranks us.” Then she pushed through the door.

            Ian stared at the walls as they walked up three flights of stairs. The wallpaper was blue and red paisley, patched from one colour to another. Dust lined the oak wood railings and doors hung open on the floors. A chill ran through the third floor corridor, like a ghost had run from one end to another. But Shadowhunters didn’t believe in ghosts. Still, the entire place had the feel of a vampire’s lair, not a Warlock’s apartment building.

            Fiona knocked twice on the fourth floor door and it swung open. Before them sat a perfectly dated living room with an empress couch, a cream settee, and an oriental rug. The walls were glass on all four sides, impossibly showing the Chicago skyline even though they were hundreds of yards below it. A half-wall separated a modern kitchen, all stainless steel and marble countertops. Ian snorted at the ostentatiousness of it all. The place stank of magic and money.

            A man emerged from the bedroom, the door behind him hung half-open to reveal red velvet everything. But the man himself was something else. Piercing blue eyes, dark hair, and a strong jaw, he exuded confidence from every pore. He wore threadbare blue boxers under a long silk robe that was the same paisley as the hallways.

            “Shadowhunters,” he said. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

            “We’re looking for the High Warlock,” Fiona said.

            The man nodded and then gave a mock bow. “You’ve found me. Feel free to call me Mickey, all the other Shadowhunters with bad manners do.” He stared at all three of them for a long moment and then said, “What do you want?”

            Ian bristled at the man’s arrogance. Certainly he hadn’t been raised to think he was better than many people – they were all charity cases at the Institute, allowed to stay there only before of Monica’s blood – but warlocks were Downworlders. And as much as he hated to think it, he really did hate to think of anyone as lesser because of their blood, Downworlders should show them some respect. So, instead of letting Fiona take the lead, he said, “A warlock’s summoning demons and setting them loose in the city. Is it you?”

            Mickey fixed his blue eyes on Ian and Ian’s heart skipped a treacherous beat. The man really was flawless, from his porcelain skin, to the slight tummy showing over his boxers, to the easy way he held himself. If Ian didn’t know he was hundreds of years old, he could mistake him for common Southside trash like he and his family had been before the Clave had come to tell him what they were.

            “No,” Mickey said. He stepped closer to the group. “Do you have any proof of your accusations against my people?”

            “We’ll get some,” Ian said, taking a step forward.

            Fiona reached out a hand to stop him. Pushing him back, she took a step forward and put on her best diplomatic smile. She’d tried twice to get a promotion that would put her at the head of the Institute but had failed both times because of her temper and likelihood to make bad decisions under pressure. It had nothing to do with her tainted blood, as they liked to say over and over again until it sounded like a lie.

            “One of our best scientists has determined a demon so old couldn’t have broken through to our world on its own,” Fiona explained calmly. “She says that only a warlock could have summoned such a demon. It was not” – here she shot a pointed glare at Ian – “our intention to imply that you had anything to do with it.”

            “Clearly,” Mickey said. His eyes slid back to Ian and Ian bristled. “I suppose I could help, though. I’m quite adept at recognizing magic. Perhaps if you let me take a look at the sample you’re working from?”

            Fiona nodded. “Come by the Institute at your convenience. You’ll be greeted with open arms.”

            Mickey nodded. “Perhaps tomorrow. My schedule’s quite full.”

            Fiona inclined her head and then stepped back, taking the hint. As they turned, Ian snuck a glance back at the warlock, who smirked at him. Ian felt a flare of heat in his chest – annoyance or attraction, it was impossible to tell.

***

            Ian was the only Gallagher in the Institute when Mickey came knocking three days later. True, he could have left it to someone else, but he felt after what he’d done accusing the guy, Fiona would be even madder if he refused to speak to him. So he went down to the Downworlder entrance and let Mickey in, led him in silence to the lab in the basement.

            “Nice place,” Mickey said. He smiled when he saw Debbie leaned over the microscope. “Your scientist, I presume?”

            Debbie looked up from the microscope with a frown. “I’m fourteen,” she said. She leaped off her stool and walked over to Mickey, crossed her arms. “How old are _you_?”

            “Eight hundred and eleven,” Mickey said.

            “So who do you think has more brain power? A brand-new brain or an incredibly old one?”

            Mickey smirked. “I like you.”

            “The feeling’s not mutual.” She walked back to the microscope and gestured for both boys to follow her. “If you look closely, you can see this particular magic’s imprint is a little like a fingerprint. A loop, if you will. It’s at least three hundred years old and the demon itself is five hundred, showing that perhaps the warlock didn’t intend destruction, but rather lost control. However, either is possible.”

            Mickey made an agreeable noise and shifted closer to the microscope. He wiped a finger over the dust, got an outraged “Hey!” from Debbie, and licked it. Then he magicked it into the air and surrounded it with a deep blue bubble.

            “What are you doing?” Ian asked. He pulled Debbie away, the wheels of her stool spinning.

            “Relax,” Mickey said. “This isn’t attack magic.” He flicked a finger and a rectangle filled with numbers came up on the other side. He skimmed them, made another motion which moved the number around, and hummed lightly. “It’s only a way to see what’s going on with this sample.”

            “Debbie, leave,” Ian said. He shot her a glare when she started to protest.

            Once the door closed, Mickey said, “If you wanted to get me alone, you could’ve just asked.”

            “Don’t flatter yourself,” Ian said. He crossed his arms and stepped closer, eyes on the backwards numbers. “I just don’t want her exposed to this sort of thing.”

            “Warlock isn’t a disease. You can’t catch it.”

            “She’s fourteen.”

            Mickey sighed, flicked the blue orb. It started to spin at a leisurely pace but none of the numbers changed. Mickey’s blue eyes looked darker through the sheen of the magic and when he met Ian’s look, he said, “I get it. It’s fucking hard to deal with life as a Shadowhunter. You’re all indoctrinated into some bullshit way of living and on top of that very few of you live past twenty-five. It’s a hard way to live, but it’s no reason to hate everything different from yourself.”

            “I don’t hate everything,” Ian said. “I’m cautious.”

            “When you live long enough,” Mickey said, “which you won’t, you learn that there’s very little in this world worth being ashamed of just because the world told you to be. Live your life, especially if it’s going to be short.”

            Ian shook his head. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

            “You will.”

            Ian shifted his weight uncomfortably and said, “What do you know about the sample?”

            “Very little,” Mickey said. “This could take a while. You’re welcome to leave.”

            Ian snorted. He hoisted himself up on the table and settled in in silence, let his gaze be the only challenge that he needed. Mickey stared at him for a long moment, nodded, and then went back to his work. The silence between them buzzed with tension and Ian soon found himself at a loss for what to do other than stare at Mickey’s hands as they moved through the air.

            Long hours passed that way until Mickey suddenly snapped his fingers and the blue orb disappeared. The sample fell to the ground, irretrievable. Ian felt like he’d left some sort of trance. He blinked several times to come back to reality and then slipped off of the table.

            “What’d you find?” Ian said.

            “The warlock who did it,” Mickey said with a smirk. “You’ll need me to be able to get to him. He’s too powerful for a handful of Shadowhunters to take on. Should just take me, you, your sisters, and the brother.”

            “Sister,” Ian said. “Debbie doesn’t fight.”

            “She’s a Shadowhunter, isn’t she? Trained?”

            “Sure, but she doesn’t fight.”

            Mickey levelled his gaze with Ian’s. “But she wants to.”

            Ian shook his head, hard. “This isn’t negotiable.”

            “I know what you’re feeling,” Mickey said. “I had a sister, a twin, and I would’ve done anything to protect her. But that doesn’t mean she wanted that protection or needed it. It’s best to let Debbie do what she wants.”

            “You said had.”

            “What?”

            “Had a sister,” Ian repeated. “What happened to her?”

            “I couldn’t protect her forever,” Mickey said, his voice going soft. He dropped his eyes to the ground. “And because I wasn’t there and I’d never let her protect herself, she was killed by a Ravener demon. And we both know how easy those are to kill.”

            Ian just stared for a moment and then looked away. Clearing his throat, he said, “We’re not talking about a Ravener demon here. We’re talking about a powerful warlock with the ability to summon attack demons. It’s not Debbie’s place.”

            Mickey laid a hand on Ian’s shoulder. “You’ll be there to protect her. I’ll be there to protect her. She’ll be safe and we’ll need her.”

            Ian swallowed hard and nodded. He tried his best not to look at the hand on his shoulder or feel the heat it sent through his body. “When do we leave?” he asked.

***

            The group went out all in black, ready to face the darkness. The warlock was named Caleb and he had spent hundreds of years accumulating power. Mickey and Fiona had run a joint session going through his crimes, abilities, and likely attack methods. Debbie had bounced up and down in her seat in excitement over going. She was getting a real mission. Ian couldn’t help but smile at the look on her face.

            Mickey knocked on the door to Caleb’s apartment. They hadn’t bothered with glamours this time; they wanted him to know they were coming, which meant that as soon as they knocked on the door, demons poured out of the building in hoards.

            The Shadowhunters immediately took up formation, Ian in front of Debbie, Mickey in the front. They took down the demons as they came. Ian cut off as many as possible from going to Debbie. The few that got through she took down with practiced skill. Mickey did his best to shield all of them while leading them into the building. Halfway up the stairs a new wave of demons came for them and their formation crunched to allow for the narrow space.

            Mickey pulled through the group, as did Ian, but the rest couldn’t get through. A sea of demons separated them and Ian looked back helplessly as his siblings fought. Mickey grabbed his hand, said, “Hey. Get the warlock, the demons disappear. Okay?”

            Ian nodded and allowed himself to be pulled up the last flight of stairs. His grip on Mickey’s hand was sweaty, but he couldn’t help but keep it. The pressure of fingers against his was intoxicating, comforting in the middle of a battle. They slipped apart on the top floor when the door blasted open at Mickey’s touch.

            They walked in together to face a man standing shirtless in the middle of a pentagram. His eyes were blown golden blue, looking up at the ceiling like a man possessed. Ian took a step forward, seraph blade in hand, but Mickey pulled him back. He pointed to the symbols on the floor. “He created a ward around himself,” Mickey said. “If you go in, you’ll get blown back.”

            “How do we destroy it?”

            Mickey bit his bottom lip and then shot a blast of magic towards Caleb. It came whipping back at them and they ducked. Mickey spread blue magic along the outside of the ward, marked it off so they could see it, and brought back the analysis table.

            “Is this going to take as long as the demon dust did?” Ian said. “Because we don’t have time for that. My family’s fighting for their life downstairs.”

            “Shh,” Mickey said.

            Ian crossed his arms and stepped back. He itched to get back into the fight. His whole body was sticky with sweat and demon blood, but he couldn’t pull himself away from Mickey. Who knew what would happen when the ward broke? Mickey might need him there. And Ian once again found himself mesmerized by the movement of Mickey’s hands, by the thug-ish tattoos on his knuckles, and the soft sounds he made as he performed magic.

            Of course, all of that was ruined seconds later by the shattering of the ward, like a thousand panes of broken glass exploded. Caleb snapped out of his trance with a roar and Ian jumped in front of Mickey on instinct, seraph blade out.

            “You’ve violated the Accords!” Ian shouted above the noise. It seemed like even the demons were screaming now. “Stand down or we’ll be forced to take drastic action.”

            Caleb laughed. “Do your worst, Shadowhunter!”

            Ian wielded his blade and Caleb matched it with magic. Ian could feel Mickey pushing him from behind, giving him energy and power to keep moving through Caleb’s assaults. A pulsing blue light surrounded Ian and wherever Caleb’s magic touched it, it bounced off. Ian fought the best he could, cut down the attacks, and eventually tossed Caleb down onto his back. He scuffed up the symbols as he went, doing his best to break every spell Caleb had cast. Then he knelt down on top of him, seraph blade across his throat and said, “Surrender to the Clave.”

            “Never.”

            Ian slit his throat before he could move his hands to perform magic. Blood, real blood, splattered over Ian’s clothes.

            Mickey pulled him back by the collar. Both men breathed heavily as they looked down at the corpse in front of them. Mickey’s fingers were sticky, warm, against the back of Ian’s neck. Ian turned to him, looked into lovely blue eyes and his breath hitched. Mickey’s hand moved so his fingers were in Ian’s hair, stroking absentmindedly. Ian bit his bottom lip. They moved closer together.

            “Ian!” Fiona’s voice yelled. Her throat sounded wrecked with sobs. “Ian! Come down here!”

            The two men broke away and dashed down the stairs. On the floor, in the middle of the stairwell, Debbie lay on the ground convulsing. There was a wound at her neck flowing black with blood. Ian froze on the staircase.

            Mickey pushed past him and shot a wave of magic at the girl. He knelt down beside her and whispered, “You’ll be okay. You’ll be okay.”

***

            Ian went back to Mickey’s a week later, flowers in hand. He wanted to thank him for everything. For saving Debbie’s life, for helping take down Caleb, for dealing with him in his bad mood. He swallowed as he pressed the buzzer for Mickey’s apartment and was only slightly surprised to be let right up.

            He walked up the staircase and knocked on Mickey’s door. It opened on its own and Ian saw Mickey sitting down on his couch, sipping coffee in his robe. Ian couldn’t help the smile that crossed his face at the sight of the powerful warlock so casual in his home. Mickey looked up and smiled.

            “Hey,” Ian said. He stepped in and paused. Awkwardly, he held up the flowers. “I came to give you a thank you.”

            “And fucking flowers is what you came up with?”

            Ian blushed, hard. “Sorry, I—”

            “No,” Mickey said. The flowers flew out of Ian’s hand and landed in a vase that suddenly appeared on the coffee table. Now Mickey looked awkward as he got to his feet and ran a hand through messy black hair. “They’re lovely. Sorry.”

            Ian forced a smile and shifted his weight from foot to foot. “So, yeah. Debbie’s doing better.”

            “Good,” Mickey said. “You still gonna let her fight?”

            Ian snorted. “Maybe when she’s twenty.”

            Mickey laughed and took a step closer. “You didn’t have to come all this way just to give me flowers and say thank you,” Mickey said. He paused just in front of Ian, tilted up his chin with one finger. “You want to finish what we started earlier?”

            Ian swallowed hard. “We didn’t start anything.”

            “We should have.”

            Ian leaned in and kissed him, soft. Soon heat flooded his body and he had no idea if it was magic or body contact. He wrapped a hand around the back of Mickey’s neck and pulled him in deeper, let his tongue explore the warlock’s mouth. He murmured low in the back of his throat and Mickey pulled back with a laugh. “Eager, are we?” Mickey said.

            Ian laughed. “Sorry.”

            “No apology necessary,” Mickey said and he went in for another kiss.


	2. Feelings Go Deeper

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Mickey is human, Ian is a shadowhunter who has a boyfriend. Some demons start to attack some humans in a square. After this attack, the shadowhunters understand that the real target was Mickey. They take Mickey under their protection. Ian is annoyed by him but only because he starts to feel attracted by him. He decides to fuck him for trying to forget this feelings. What happen when his boyfriend finds out the betrayal? And when Mickey finds about the boyfriend?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NSFW

The demons were everywhere. Ian could barely see through the thick of them, was having trouble telling the difference between them and the humans. There was only the telltale shot of blue through their eyes, like a lightning bolt undone, that separated one from the other. That and the screaming. Only the humans screamed and ran when the Shadowhunters came to play.

            The demons attacked hard, biting and scratching and spitting. Ian stayed at Alec’s side, careful to catch the demons close to his boyfriend while he shot arrows at the ones further away. Jace and Clary were somewhere in the fray, their golden light palpable in the space.

            Demons ignored the Shadowhunters too, fought further into the building instead of out of it, like there was something they were looking for. Ian threw them back, fought through the crowd. Isabelle was in the thick of it, her whip wrapped around multiple heads at a time and snapping them off. Others rushed the humans to safety.

            Ian fought to the middle of the crowd, left Alec behind on his perch. The demons were biting at a small space in the middle, the way cleared. As Ian stabbed through them, he realized that there was a pentagram on the floor protecting a human that stood in the middle of it.

            The man was beautiful. He had crystal clear blue eyes that met Ian’s with a shock to the heart. His black hair fell in sweaty strands over his brows, complimented the shape of his face. A thin line of stubble pockmarked his chin, accentuated his jaw line. And for a moment Ian forgot to fight, forgot to push through the crowd, just stood there. Not that it mattered. The demons were clearly after this protected man, not quite weird enough to be a warlock, undeniably human, but the target of the attack.

            Ian stepped into the pentagram and asked, “Are you okay?”

            “Fine.”

            “Did you draw this?”

            The man shook his head. “It just kind of... appeared.”

            Ian nodded. He kept fighting from inside the circle, used its protection to keep himself safe while the demons got closer. It took them a solid twenty minutes to finish off the hoard and even then Ian was careful to tell the man to stay in the circle. The man, who said his name was Mickey, had no idea what was going on.

            Ian wasn’t sure he believed him, but Alec talked him down. Just having Alec beside Mickey felt wrong to Ian, like he was cheating on one of them, but he wasn’t sure which one. Mickey was gorgeous, sure, but he wasn’t his boyfriend, and Ian fought hard to keep his eyes on Alec instead.

            Eventually it was decided that Mickey would be brought back to the institute and they all headed home.

 

Mickey stared up at the institute walls. The whole place looked like a dump from the outside, but on the inside glass walls and technology surrounded him. The place was huge, like a renovated castle, and it made him feel small. He didn’t like feeling small. He didn’t like being rescued by a bunch of commandos in black; he preferred to rescue himself. But if they were going to put him up in a place like this, maybe he could get used to it.

            The redheaded one, Ian, he thought, gestured for him to follow him away from the main foyer and into one of the hallways. Dark doors lined the halls, all of them closed, and Mickey itched to reach out and open one. After what he had seen that night – demons attacking a city square – he couldn’t imagine what might be behind the doors in a demon hunting institute. He’d have to ask someone or do some exploring on his own.

            “You’ll be in here,” Ian said. He opened one of the doors and on the other side was a large bedroom, double bed, loads of empty space. Fancy ass shit covered the flat surfaces, most of it probably pawn-able. “I’m two doors down, other side of the hall and Alec’s across from you. You need anything, don’t ask us.”

            “Got it,” Mickey said. “Any idea how long I’ll be stuck here?”

            “Until we figure out whatever the hell is so special about you.”

            “Maybe it’s my charm,” Mickey said, but he only got a grunt in response. He bristled a bit – after all, Ian was tall and muscular and not bad to look at and apparently gave less than half a damn about him – but let it go. “Whatever,” he said. “Just let me know when I can leave.”

            “As soon as I can,” Ian promised.

            Mickey flipped him off as he walked away and then shut the door. It was going to be a long couple days.

 

Ian spent most of the day reading in the institute with Alec. They were trying to figure out what type of demons they were dealing with and why they would organize against one person, especially if there was no one on the end of their summoning. After all, they had no luck pinpointing a warlock that could be after Mickey, so the only other option was to go after the demons themselves.

            Ian wished he could distract his boyfriend just a little bit. He caught Alec’s eyes more than once, made a face, but he was ignored. All he wanted was a couple kisses, maybe some over-the-pants action, just enough to take the edge off. He’d been having dreams about Mickey, about those blue eyes instead of his boyfriend’s blue eyes, and he really needed sex just to get his mind back on track.

            And speak of the devil.

            Mickey walked into the room eating an apple, plump lips bent around the red fruit. Ian watched the movement, shifted closer to Alec on purpose, tried to feel the warmth of his thigh. Any contact would be a godsend, something to get him through, but Alec was still focussed on his book.

            “Any luck?” Mickey asked.

            “No,” Alec said. “Demons usually aren’t smart enough to track a target on their own.”

            “Plus few of them are that picky about their prey,” Ian said. He closed the book he was reading over a finger. “Most of them will kill just about anyone in their way.”

            “So I’m not just prime rib?” Mickey said.

            _You are,_ Ian thought, but he shook his head, said nothing.

            “We’ll figure it out,” Alec said. He stood up and the cold he left behind chilled Ian. Alec put the book he was working from back on the shelf and grabbed another, walked over to Mickey with it. He opened the book and pointed to a picture. “This is the demon we’re dealing with, right? The one that attacked you?”

            Mickey nodded.

            “These usually only come from a summoning, but you don’t seem to have pissed any warlocks off. So we might need a warlock’s help to figure this out,” Alec said.

            “Of course you’d want a warlock,” Ian said.

            Alec shot him a glare and Ian reminded himself to shut the fuck up. He let Alec drone on about the demon while his eyes moved over Mickey. He knew it was bad. He knew he should stop. But the man in front of him was beautiful, truly a masterpiece, and Ian didn’t have the self control to stay away from him for long. So he decided. He’d fuck Mickey and get it over with, consequences be damned.

 

Mickey was surprised to get slammed back into a wall, but not by Ian. Ian had been bitchy to him since he’d come to the institute and it was no surprise that he’d finally attacked him. Mickey just wished he’d asked Alec to teach him some moves before it came to this.

            But then the crushing weight of Ian’s lips on his told him this was not just a fight. He felt something blossom inside of him. It wasn’t like he was fucking blind. He knew Ian was a tall Adonis, worthy of worship, and to have his lips on his was a privilege. A very confusing privilege, but a privilege all the same.

            Ian pulled back quick and gave him a once over. Seeming to decide he was good enough, he stepped back and said, “Follow me.”

            Mickey was quick to follow instructions. The one thing he’d learned quickly at the Institute was to do what the Shadowhunters said or get crushed. So he followed Ian silently up the stairs and into his bedroom, got pushed back into the door until it closed.

            Ian kissed him again, long and hard, and then started to bite his way down his neck. Mickey tried hard not to make any sounds, but eventually his mouth gave out on him. “Hey, no offense,” he said, trying hard not to let words turn into moans, “but don’t you kinda fucking hate me?”

            “I’d hate you less if you shut up,” Ian said. He kissed across Mickey’s collarbone.

            “Sure we both would,” Mickey replied. “But just for future reference—”

            “For future reference,” Ian said, catching Mickey’s lips in a bruising kiss, “Shut the fuck up.”

            Mickey let himself be bullied into another kiss and moaned only when Ian’s hips ground down against his own. He was embarrassed by how hard the simple motion made him, by how long it had been since the last time he’d had someone touch him. Maybe he could get over all of Ian’s personality just for his body. In fact, there was no maybe about it. He could and he would.

            Ian ripped off of him and said, “Strip.”

            Mickey scrambled to comply and then stood bare in front of Ian, who scanned his body with blown out, lust filled eyes. Then he stripped off his own t-shirt to reveal a sculpted torso and Mickey wondered how he could ever be attractive to a guy like this. A guy who saw other guys like this everywhere he looked. But those thoughts went out the window when his pants came off and a beautiful, long dick came into view. All coherent thoughts went out the window as Mickey studied him.

            “Eyes up,” Ian said. He tilted Mickey’s chin and kissed him hard. Mickey wished he could slow him down, spend the time taking him apart, but that’s clearly not what Ian wanted from him. Ian wanted fast and messy and Mickey could do both.

            After just a minute of kissing, Ian tossed Mickey towards the bed and told him to spread his legs. Cold, lubed up fingers pressed between Mickey’s butt cheeks and he gasped at the intrusion. Ian made small noises of comfort as he moved one finger, then two, curled them up to tap against Mickey’s prostate.

            “Fuck,” Mickey murmured into the sheets. He was bent over the bed with his ass in the air and had no doubt Ian was looking at him appreciatively, no doubt glad at how easy it was to tear him apart. Mickey tried to grind his cock down on the mattress to get a little release, but Ian stopped him with a hand on his hips. Mickey whimpered.

            “Stop being so impatient,” Ian said. He slipped out his fingers and lined up with his hole. “You’ll get fucked, nice and steady.”

            “Aw, fuck you.”

            Ian slammed in without warning and Mickey huffed out a breath. He forced himself to breathe steady as Ian stilled, let him acclimate to his size. “Sorry,” Ian said, but he didn’t sound it. Mickey said nothing.

            Ian moved out at a nice pace and started a slow rhythm of in and out. Mickey grasped at the sheets and bit his bottom lip, intent on not letting out a sound. But when Ian started to hit his prostate at the right pace, every hit better than the next, he lost his ability to hold in the gasps and the moans. The sounds seemed to egg Ian on, got him to go faster with every thrust. He even wrapped an arm around Mickey’s waist to jack him off, the hard calluses of his fingers delicious friction on Mickey’s dick.

            Mickey came with a yell and squeezed tight around Ian as he chased his orgasm with a few more thrusts. When he came, he stepped away and tapped Mickey’s ass before mumbling something about going to clean up.

            Mickey turned over on the bed, sat down on his tender ass. “Yeah, I had a good time too, asshole,” he muttered.

 

Ian paced the hall for a long time before he went back to his bedroom. His stomach curled with guilt. Fucking Mickey had done nothing to fix his obsession with him; if anything, it had only made it worse. He could feel Mickey tightening around him, the weight of him, and taste of his kisses. He’d been quick, but he’d still managed to burn it all into his memory.

            There was a knock at his door and he went over to see Alec. Just the sight of his boyfriend made his stomach drop. And it hit hard to be able to see him and think _I don’t love him._ Not that he loved Mickey. He’d just met Mickey.

            “What?” Ian said, wincing at the snap in his own voice.

            Alec gave him a weird look, but asked no questions. “I think I know what Mickey is,” Alec said.

            “And?”

            “He’s a warlock, but half-Shadowhunter too,” Alec said. He smiled around the words. “Like Tessa.”

            “Tessa?”

            “I called Magnus.”

            “Of course you did.”

            “What’s that supposed to mean?”

            “You know what that’s supposed to mean,” Ian snapped. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair, forced himself to look Alec in the eyes. “You’re still in love with him. And there’s nothing I can do about that.”

            Alec opened his mouth to reply, but couldn’t get words out. Finally he shut his lips and sighed, leaned against the doorway. “What do you want to do about that?”

            “Nothing,” Ian said. “I don’t think this is working.”

            “What?”

            “I slept with Mickey.”

            “You what?”

            “I slept with him because I couldn’t stop thinking about him and I don’t love you and you don’t love me and I don’t know what we’re doing anymore,” Ian said. He forced himself to breathe. That was a little harsh, but he had to get it all out. “Can we just be over?”

            “That’s what you want?” Alec said. “To be with him?”

            Ian stared for a moment and the dropped his gaze to nod.

            “Then, yeah, we’re over.” Alec stepped back into the hall and quickly disappeared.

            Ian’s heart felt heavier and lighter all at the same time. He didn’t even have the chance to watch Alec go.

 

Mickey was both surprised and unsurprised to see Ian at the door to his room a few hours later. He said nothing, just stared at the other man, let him come to him. After all, he was the one who’d gotten fucked into a mattress with little preamble, not the other way around.

            “I’m sorry,” Ian said.

            “No worries.”

            Ian stepped into the room and took a seat at the desk. “I’ve been... an asshole, because I like you and I had a boyfriend—”

            “You have a boyfriend?”

            “We just broke up,” Ian said. He scratched the back of his neck. “Because of you and someone else and a lot of other issues. But a lot of it had to do with how I feel about you.”

            “You hate me.”

            “I wanted to,” Ian said. “But I didn’t. And I don’t. And I want... look, as long as you’re here, and it might be a while because the demons are after you because of the rarity of your kind, as long as you’re here I want to try to be with you. If you want to try to be with me.”

            “My kind?” Mickey said.

            “Shadowhunter warlocks. There’s only one other that we know about and she’s out of danger because she’s trained and been around for a long time. So until you’re ready to be on your own, you’ll have to be here.”

            “And if I say no?”

            “You’ll die, most likely.”

            Mickey nodded and said, “Okay, I’ll stay.”

            “And the other part?”

            Mickey raised an eyebrow.

            “Me,” Ian said. “What about me?”

            Mickey pushed off of the bed and landed a light kiss on Ian’s lips. With a smirk, he said, “We could talk about it. Or not.”


	3. Werewolves & Humans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by Teen wolf. Could you write one where Ian is an Alpha werewolf and he has accepted in his pack a new member, Mandy. Through her, he will meet his brother Mickey who is human. Could you please do that Ian is similar to Derek and Mickey to Stiles?

“He bit you?” Mickey said. He stared at the wound on his sister’s arm, the wound that was surprisingly well-healed despite the fact that she claimed it had happened last night. “What kind of asshole goes around biting girls in the middle of the night?”

            “Fuck if I know,” Mandy said. She shook off her brother’s grasp. “It’s not a big deal though.”

            “Not a big deal? There’s some guy out there fucking _biting_ women in the middle of the night.”

            “He could be raping them.”

            “Don’t even joke about that.”

            Mandy shrugged her apology and pressed the bandage back over the wound. It was bloody and needed to be changed, but they had none of the same supplies at home and like hell she was going back to the hospital. “Don’t worry about it,” she said. “It’s just a flesh wound.”

***

            Ian knew the signs. It wasn’t hard to tell when there was an untrained werewolf about. The woods were scattered with animal parts around the full moon and there were reports of animal attacks throughout the city. Also there were reports of a strange, humanoid creature running through the outskirts of town.

            Yeah, there was definitely an untrained werewolf running around.

            Not that Ian had any idea how to find them.

            Once the full moon passed, it was anyone’s game. He could smell them, but only if he got close enough, and sniffing everyone in the school wasn’t exactly an option. He could try, sure, but it wasn’t likely a good choice.

            The thought of a new werewolf made him feel oddly happy, despite the fact that they were at risk of exposing everything. He’d been alone since his family had died in a fire and, needless to say, his foster parents weren’t all that fond of his all-night disappearances at the full moon. And being alone all full moon, well, that was a kind of hell he didn’t wish on any werewolf who had full control of themselves. It was lonely. Being without a pack was lonely.

            So Ian, despite his instinct to the contrary, made sure to try to smell kids on the first day of school. None of them smelled different. It was all B.O., too much cologne or perfume, and failing deodorant. It wasn’t until Chemistry that he caught the scent of something vaguely wolfish coming from the hallway. He excused himself to the bathroom and snuck out into the hall, following the smell.

            Before he turned the next corner, he heard voices. He slowed to listen to the conversation and peeked around the corner. The Milkoviches. And one of them – which he wasn’t quite sure yet – smelled distinctly like a new pup.

            “What the hell are you doing out all night?” Mickey hissed. “You know it’s dangerous out there.”

            “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

            “You weren’t in bed the other night.”

            “I woke up there. Went to bed there,” Mandy snapped. “Can’t see how I disappeared in the fucking middle of it, can you?”

            “Then where’d you get these, huh?” Mickey said. He grabbed Mandy’s arm and shoved up her sleeve, exposing hundreds of small cuts. Ian knew those cuts. They were made by tree branches. “Just tell me what the hell you’re doing in the middle of the night.”

            “I don’t know!” Mandy said. “For the love of god, I don’t fucking know what I’m doing in the middle of the night.” Her anger broke on a sob and Mickey’s grip relaxed on her wrist.

            Before he could think better of it, Ian stepped around the corner. “I might be able to help.”

            “Fuck off, man,” Mickey said. He stepped protectively closer to his sister. “This is a private conversation.”

            “I know what’s wrong.”

            “How the fuck could you?”

            “Mick,” Mandy said. She placed a hand on Mickey’s shoulder and nodded at Ian.

            Ian knew what she was feeling. She could sense that he wanted to help her, that he could help her. He held up in hands to surrender to her brother and said, slow, “You’re a werewolf, Mandy,” he said. “I don’t know who turned you or why, but all the signs are there. You’ve turned.”

            Mandy’s breath caught but Mickey said, “Fucking idiot. If you’re gonna continue to be crazy, can you do it somewhere else?”

            “I’m telling the truth,” Ian said. He barely spared Mickey a glance. He was focused on Mandy. “She knows it.”

            “I do,” she said.

            “Oh, fuck,” Mickey said. He glanced back at his sister. “Are you high?”

            “Mick, think about it,” Mandy said. “I’m out all night, but only on the full moon. I’m getting cut up, dirty. My senses are going fucking insane. It makes sense.”

            “Being a werewolf doesn’t make sense,” Mickey snapped.

            Mandy nodded. “It does.”

            Ian cleared his throat, caught their attention again. “I can teach you,” he said. “Teach you how to control the transformations and turn down your senses.”

            Mandy took a step forward. “I’d like that.”

            Mickey started to swear again.

            Ian ignored him. “Welcome to the pack,” he said.

***

            Mickey stalked out of class at the end of the day without having learned a thing. Not that he usually learned a thing, just that often he managed to listen to a word or two the teacher said. He couldn’t today. It was too hard to focus on class when his sister had agreed to meet an insane guy at a burned down house in order to start her werewolf training. No matter what she said, he wasn’t letting her go alone.

            As he started towards his locker, he spotted Ian in the hall. He hurried to catch up to him and slammed his hand down on his shoulder. The other boy turned to face him, one eyebrow raised, completely calm. “Can I help you?” Ian asked.

            “Why are you fucking my sister?” Mickey said.

            “I’m not.”

            “Is this about getting in her pants?”

            Ian laughed.

            Mickey tightened his grip on the boy’s shoulder. “Don’t fucking laugh at me.”

            Ian held up his hands in mock surrender. “Sorry. It’s just, I’m gay.”

            “Gay?”

            “Yeah.” And then, when Mickey said nothing, he added, “It means I like guys.”

            “Thanks, asshole,” Mickey snapped. He let go of Ian and stepped back. “So my sister? You’re just fucking with her for your own sick amusement then?”

            Ian sighed. “I’m not fucking with her. I’m trying to help.”

            “By telling her shit about werewolves?”

            “It’s all true.”

            Mickey snorted. “Prove it.”

            Ian looked around the hall as if double-checking no one was looking. Then he met Mickey’s eyes again. “Fine,” he said. And then his eyes flashed bright red for one heart-stopping moment. Then everything was back to normal. “Believe me now?”

            Mickey, shaken, said, “No.”

            Ian said, “Then come to the house with us. See for yourself.”

            “You think I was ever gonna let her go alone?”

            Ian smirked. “Nope.”

***

            The afternoon at Ian’s old house passed hellishly. The problem was, the easiest way to control the transformation was pain, and Mickey didn’t want Mandy to get hurt. Even after Ian explained she could take it, even after he had proven to Mickey multiple times that werewolves were _real_ , he stood adamantly against hurting his sister even a little bit. Even Mandy was getting tired of him a few hours in.

            Ian tried to tell Mickey to leave, but that went about as well as was to be expected. By the time the sun started to set, they had made little to no progress. Ian told Mandy quietly not to bring Mickey next time. She gave him a shrugged that seemed like the equivalent of, “I’ll try.”

            As she packed up to go, Mickey approached him. Ian braced himself for the worst – for a lecture on not hurting girls, to more bullshit about how werewolves didn’t exist, to a barrage of unnecessary insults – but all he got was a hesitant, “Thanks,” and an awkward pat on the shoulder.

            The act of kindness left his oddly frozen for the rest of the day.

***

            Mickey reluctantly hung back from the rest of the training sessions. But he still kept a close eye on Ian in the school hallways, tried to be in hearing distance of anything he said to Mandy. Anyone could claim they were gay, and Mickey still found it convenient that he wanted her alone all the time.

            And he wasn’t convinced that Ian wasn’t the one who bit her.

            Who turned her.

            So he spent weeks semi-stalking Ian and he was sure the other boy knew. Every once in a while Ian would smirk over his shoulder or slow down when he started to go too fast for Mickey on his morning runs. He seemed to _like_ being stalked, which threw Mickey for a whole new loop. Maybe the guy was gay. Maybe he was gay for Mickey.

            Mickey tried to shake the thought out of his head, but it was hard when he was following the guy all the time. He had plenty of time to notice his leg muscles on his morning runs, the way his sweat dripped down his abs when he stripped in the locker room, not to mention what he noticed in the showers...

            Everything went well until one day Mandy didn’t come back from her practice session with Ian. Mickey waited until an hour after sunset to go over to Ian’s foster home and knock on the door. To his surprise, it was Ian who answered the door, half undressed and halfway through a yawn.

            “Where’s Mandy?” Mickey said.

            Ian frowned. “I sent her home over an hour ago.”

            “Well, she didn’t come home.”

            Ian shrugged. “Maybe she’s out.”

            “Mandy doesn’t go out after dark,” Mickey said. “That’s a damn good way for her to get herself killed. Or bitten again.”

            “I’m sure it’s fine,” Ian said. “So unless you want to stalk me into my house...”

            He let the statement hang in the air, an edge of a smile on his lips, just the hint of an invitation. And if Mickey was less worried, less angry, he might have taken him up on it. Instead, he turned from the front step and walked away from the house.

            He started to check out the places Mandy liked to go. A couple of bars, an Under-21 club, and then finally back home. Mandy was nowhere to be found and it was a little after midnight. Mickey, tired and worried sick, collapsed onto his couch and dialed Ian’s number.

            He picked up on the ninth ring. “Hello?”

            “Mandy’s not home,” Mickey said.

            “Maybe stop with the whole overprotective thing?” Ian said. He yawned through the words. “She’s a werewolf now. She can take care of herself.”

            “Do you have any fucking idea how late it is?”

            “Deep breaths.”

            “Shut the fuck up. I’m worried.”

            There was silence on the line for a moment. Then Ian said, “I’ll go look.”

***

            Why he did Mickey favours, Ian was pretty sure he’d never know. Well, he did know if he was being honest with himself, but he didn’t quite feel like doing that at the moment. At the moment, Mickey was the annoying brother of his pack member who was forcing him out of bed at one in the morning to look for her when she was probably fine. He was not the guy Ian had a crush on. Not right now.

            Ian took off into the night, heading for his old house so that he could catch Mandy’s scent. It still overwhelmed him sometimes to be there, to see the charred remains of his old life. But he swallowed it down and focused on Mandy, caught her scent and started after it.

            She kept to the path going to her house for quite a while and then veered off into the woods. Not unlike her, as she often liked to walk around alone. But Ian started to pick up a second scent along with the first, one he didn’t recognize that was still distinctly wolfish. Then he hit a road and the scent stopped.

            He took his phone out his pocket and called Mickey. He answered on the first ring.

            “We’ve got a problem,” Ian said.

***

            “You lost her? How the hell could you lose my sister?” Mickey snapped. He was an inch from Ian’s face, a complete mess, and all he could do to retain his sanity was continue to yell. “She’s one person. And all you had to do was keep her safe for the four hours you’re with her. And you couldn’t even do that right!”

            “She was walking home!”

            “You should have protected her!”

            “I’m not going to coddle her her whole life. She’s a werewolf and a powerful one at that,” Ian said. He grabbed on to Mickey’s arm and squeezed it. “She can take care of herself. Just whoever took her... they were better.”

            “Took her,” Mickey repeated. “She was taken?”

            “Looks like it.”

            Mickey swore. Then he shook his head, squared his shoulders. “All right,” he said. “How do we find the guy? What do we do?”

            Ian stared at him blankly. “I don’t know.”

            “You don’t?” Mickey said. He tried to laugh and failed. “Isn’t that your thing? That you always know what to do and what’s going on and how to fix things? I thought you were here to get help to find her.”

            “I don’t know where she is.”

            Mickey tried not to let his body slump and swallowed the anger in his throat. He could yell at Ian all night, but he didn’t see how that would help if the other boy simply didn’t know where his sister was. “Okay,” Mickey said, his voice weak.

            “I’m sorry,” Ian said.

            Mickey shrugged.

            Ian started to rub Mickey’s arm and then he stepped closer, laid a kiss on Mickey’s forehead. Slowly, he peppered Mickey’s face with kisses until he reached his lips. He hesitated there and Mickey closed the gap between them, stopped the soft kisses in favour of something rougher. Something that would get his mind off the situation in hand.

            Luckily, Ian got the drill and dived into the kiss, swirled his tongue. He pulled Mickey flush to his strong body and worked his lips down the length of Mickey’s neck. He pulled groans from Mickey, swears said like prayers, and murmurs of his name. They spent the night like that, together, in a companionable state of not talking.

***

            Ian and Mickey spent the next day driving around town asking about Mandy. No one had seen her. Mickey kept quietly cursing himself – and Ian – for wasting time last night, but otherwise he made no mention of the events of the night before. Ian wondered what that meant, if he really regretted it or if he was just worried about his sister.

            Finally, hours into the search, Ian said, “All right, head to the hospital.”

            Mickey’s hands clenched around the steering wheel. “She’s not going to be at the hospital."

            “No,” Ian agreed, just to calm his down. “But my Uncle Jerry lives there and, if we can get him to talk, he might know something about the alpha that bit Mandy.”

            “What?”

            “The werewolf who turned her.”

            “You think that’s who took her?”

            Ian shrugged. “I don’t know of any other wolves in the area, so it doesn’t make a lot of sense that two different wolves would be able to both stay under the radar and separately turn and kidnap Mandy.”

            “Don’t say kidnap,” Mickey said. He turned the car towards the hospital and they drove the rest of the way in silence.

            They got out of the car and headed into the building. Ian wanted to stop at the front desk and ask if Mandy was there, but he knew Mickey would only drag him away before he got the words out. So instead he turned into the long term care ward and headed to his uncle’s room. He knocked on the door and then pushed it open.

            His uncle sat at the window in his wheelchair. He made no move to show he’d heard them enter.

            “Hey,” Ian said. He took a tentative step into the room and rocked on his heels. “Uncle Jerry? I wanted to ask you something?”

            Nothing.

            “Man, is the guy even alive?” Mickey said.

            “Shut up,” Ian hissed. He walked closer to his uncle and nudged his wheelchair. “Hey, Uncle Jerry. It’s your nephew, Ian. Remember me?”

            Still nothing.

            “There’s this alpha werewolf out here that kidnapped my friend and, well, I was wondering if you could help.”

            Uncle Jerry grunted.

            Mickey started to poke around the room. He opened the drawers of the bedside table and peeked underneath the bed.

            Ian ignored him to keep asking questions. “Maybe someone new in town? Or someone who used to live here? Could you think of anyone looking for a pack?”

            Uncle Jerry said nothing.

            Ian bit back a sigh and was about to try a different tact when Mickey said, “Ian.”

            Ian turned. Mickey had the closet doors open and was bent in front of a huddled mass in the corner. Ian stepped closer and, upon reaching Mickey’s side, could see that Mandy was curled up in the corner. Mickey was making quick works of the knots around her wrists and feet, but not fast enough. Not if Uncle Jerry wasn’t really stuck in his wheelchair.

            “Run,” Ian said. He pushed Mickey, hard, and scooped Mandy up in his arms. As he started for the door on Mickey’s heels, he heard a fierce growl behind him. He shoved Mandy into Mickey’s arms and said, “Go.”

            Then he turned back to face his uncle.

***

            Mickey ran. He could hear the fight behind him, the crashing, the screaming, all the people of the hospital suddenly thrust into a war zone. His heart beat erratically, insanely scared for Ian. But he kept going, kept Mandy huddled close to him, until he reached his car. He laid her in the backseat and pulled the gag from her mouth.

            “How are you doing?” Mickey said, out of breath.

            “Fine,” Mandy said. An obvious lie. Bruises marred her face and blood was still oozing out of little wounds on her arms. She pushed back at Mickey. “Go,” she said. “He’ll need you.”

            Mickey hesitated to leave her but when she gave him a stronger push, he turned back and ran into the fray. The hospital was being evacuated and moving against the crush took time. When he reached Uncle Jerry’s room, the older werewolf had Ian pinned down on the floor, one claw dangerously close to his neck.

            Mickey charged. He leaped at the werewolf and scrambled for the upper hand. All the fights he ever had with his father came back to him and pure instinct kicked in. He bit and scratched and punched but he was no match for a werewolf. Teeth sunk in to his shoulder and ripped out a chunk of his skin.

            Then Ian was back on top of Uncle Jerry, twisting his head to the side in a chokehold. Mickey heard a sickening snap and then Uncle Jerry’s body dropped to the ground. A second later Ian was at his side, eyes wide, one hand on the wound in Mickey’s shoulder. “Oh my god,” Ian whispered. “I’m sorry, Mick. I’m so sorry.”

***

            Weeks later, Mickey and Mandy stood side by side outside of Ian’s old house. True, Mickey was the younger werewolf, but he did everything in his power to try to be better than his sister when it came to control. Both to piss her off and impress his boyfriend.

            They were a pack, all of them together, and nothing could stop them now.


	4. His Protector

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Supernatural AU. Mickey is a demon hunter and Ian is an angel sent by the Paradise to protect Mickey.

Mickey scanned the ramshackle hut from the outside. It was perfect for a vampire nest. Out of the way, abandoned, and with enough coverage from the sun that the holes in the roof wouldn’t be a problem. He tested the tip of his blade against a finger and droplets of blood hit the ground.

            “You ready?” he asked Mandy.

            She gave him a big smile and he had to smile back.

            In tandem, they ran towards the house. Mickey took the back exit while Mandy took the front. Once upon a time it would’ve made him nervous to let his little sister go into a vamp nest alone, but now he knew she could handle herself. More than handle herself. She’d saved his ass more than once.

            He burst through the back and started to cut off heads. A couple of vamps turned on him and he took them out without a second thought. The movement was instinct – one long cut side to side. He’d done it all his life, learned the move from his dad, and then used the move on Terry when he got a little too close to Mandy.

            Then the floor burst open. From below, vampires crawled out of the basement onto the main floor like rats from a horror movie. Heads went flying. But still more vampires crawled out, got to their feet, and started to fight back. Mickey found himself retreating back to the door, cursing whatever god let evil creatures onto his earth. Of course he knew better by now. There was no god.

            Mickey’s back hit a wall. He called out for Mandy, but she didn’t reply. His swinging distance was getting dangerously low and it took strength to sever a neck. Strength and momentum.

            A vamp put his fist through the wall right next to Mickey’s head. He swung, hit flesh and pushed, pushed, pushed—

            A flare of white light burst through the room, too bright to look at, and when it died down, all the vampires were on the floor.

            Mickey stared at Mandy from across the room. She looked as confused as he felt.

            Then that same white light descended from the sky in a long column. For a moment, Mickey saw wings silhouetted across the cabin walls, big enough to engulf the building. Then they were gone. The light was gone. And in its place stood a man with fire red hair, a well-muscled body, and the kind of quirky smile Mickey wanted to punch off his face.

            “Mickey Milkovich?” the man said.

            Mickey narrowed his eyes. “Who wants to know?”

            “I’m... well, my full name might be a little hard to pronounce. You can call me... Ian.”

            “Ian,” Mickey repeated. He glanced at his sister over “Ian’s” shoulder and saw that she was getting closer, blade raised. He flicked his eyes back to the creature in front of him. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

            “I’ve been sent to protect you.”

            “Protect me from what?”

            Ian opened his mouth to reply just as Mandy’s blade came down. It shattered against his neck, falling in harmless pieces to the ground. Ian didn’t so much as flinch, just went on with what he had been going to say, which was, “Things that want to hunt you. Demons that want your soul. You may not believe me, but you’re very important to the fate of the world.”

            Mickey snorted. “I don’t believe you.”

            “God himself sent me to protect you.”

            “I don’t believe in God.”

            “He believes in you.”

            Mickey almost laughed, but he stopped himself. Whatever this creature was, it was too strong to be killed by the weapons they had with them, and the car was half a mile away. He decided to play it safe. “Then what are you?” he asked. “An angel.”

            Ian inclined his head.

            Ian the angel.

            “Well, that’s mighty nice of you to come down and protect me, but I don’t fucking need your protection,” Mickey said. “In case you didn’t notice, I’m doing pretty good on my own.”

            “You’ve died how many times?”

            Mickey shut his mouth.

            “And just now, were you not about to die again?”

            “I would have made it.”

            “I very much doubt that,” Ian said. He took a step closer to Mickey. “You are very important to the fate of the world and God would prefer not to have to rebuild you again. Human souls are fragile. They can only survive so many dips into the afterlife before they’re gone for good.”

            “And you’re saying I’m close to my limit?”

            “Very close.”

            Mickey glanced at Mandy over Ian’s shoulder and raised an eyebrow. She shrugged. He said, “Again, nice of you to offer, but I’m fucking fine. We’re fucking fine. I don’t need an angel to protect me. And better yet, I don’t want one.” He closed the gap between the two of them and knocked Ian lightly on the shoulder. “Better luck next time, huh?”

            He and Mandy walked out of the building together. Mickey didn’t let himself look back until they had cleared the front porch and by then, Ian was gone. He felt an unwilling pang at the loss of his presence, like something was missing, but he shook it off. Whatever emptiness he felt now, he’d felt his whole life.

            They made it back to the car and Mickey started up the old beater. It turned over a few times before catching, but once it did they were off, their conversation turned towards how to best kill angels.

 

For a week, all their hunting missions were interrupted by Ian. He would appear any time he pleased – whether they were actually in trouble or not – and kill everything in sight.

            When Mickey repeated that he didn’t need to be saved, he was ignored. When he said that maybe a little earlier would be nice, Ian simply shot him a look and a smirk. There was no winning with the “angel.”

            They were back in the bunker for some downtime, Mandy in the kitchen and Mickey in the library. He had his computer open and was surfing porn websites when there was a loud crash near him. He whipped around to see that Ian had appeared behind him and knocked over a lamp. He looked unconcerned about it.

            “You know,” Ian said, “God doesn’t like it when you deny your sexuality.”

            “What?”

            “Nothing.” Ian pulled out the chair beside Mickey and sat down.

            “You just show up now? Like we’re fucking buddies or something?”

            “I thought we were ‘buddies’ as you call it,” Ian said.

            “Showing up and saving my ass and getting yelled at is what you call friendship?” Mickey said. He let out a low whistle. “I’d hate to be up with the angels. You guys are fucking messed up.”

            “Hundreds of siblings under one roof,” Ian said. “It’s bound to mess someone up.”

            Mickey snorted. Then he saw the way Ian was looking at him, pity bright in green eyes. “What?” Mickey said. “You think that messed me up?”

            “You only talk to Mandy now.”

            “How the fuck do you know?”

            “I see everything when I’m in heaven.”

            Mickey stared at Ian for a long moment and then shook his head. “That’s too fucking weird, man. In fact, all of this is too fucking weird. I need you to just stop. Just stop hanging around, stop trying to protect me, stop saving my ass. If I die, I die. Tell God not to bring me back next time if my soul is such a threadbare mess.”

            “You know I can’t.”

            “I don’t know anything except what you’ve told me. And I’m still not completely sure you are what you say you are, all right?” Mickey said. He flipped tabs on his computer so that Ian could see the research laid out there. All of it was on angels, their names, their powers, their charges. “You don’t fit the profile. I don’t fit the profile. Your name or anything similar to your name, doesn’t exist.”

            “Humans don’t know every angel.”

            “Bullshit,” Mickey said. “You’re just saying that so I won’t figure out what you really are. Why you’re really here.”

            Ian stared at him for a long moment, a frown on his face. “Why don’t you trust me? I’ve done nothing but help you.”

            Mickey slammed his laptop shut, forced himself to look away from Ian.

            “Is it because you don’t trust anyone who helps you?”

            “Fuck off.”

            “I want to understand what I’m doing wrong.”

            Mickey looked back at him. He wanted to punch him in the face. Or kiss him. But mostly punch him in the face. “You’re doing everything wrong. You want someone to trust you? Put in the time, the effort, get to know them, don’t just start spewing facts like their entire life has been laid out in the palm of your hand.”

            “But it has been.”

            “And you don’t see how that’s fucking creepy?”

            Ian blinked and shook his head. “I guess I don’t understand.”

            Mickey sighed, ready to explain from the top, but then Mandy came rushing into the room. She slammed her palms down onto the table and said, “You have to see this. Now.” Then she headed back to the kitchen, Mickey and Ian hot on her heels.

            She turned up the volume on the small kitchen TV and the news report blared to life. There were reports of massive amounts of deaths throughout the country, bodies sucked dry of blood, attacks on friends and family members, hearts ripped out of chests, and the dead rising from their graves – although the reporter laughed at the last one.

            “Vampires, werewolves, and zombies,” Mandy said, her voice steady even as she crossed her arms tightly. “Something’s making them all go crazy at the same time.”

            “Let’s get hunting then,” Mickey said.

            Mandy put a hand on his arm. “We have to go through the lore first. Figure out what’s doing this and stop it at the source. Just killing a bunch of creatures isn’t going to do anything.”

            “It’s going to save people.”

            “And get you killed,” Mandy and Ian said in unison.

            By popular vote – even though Mickey argued Ian didn’t get a vote – they stayed and looked through the lore. They left the news report on to see if anything changed, but it was only more and more death and destruction. Eventually Mandy muted it and Mickey looked out of the corner of his eye for breaking news every time he flipped a page.

            Two days in, they finally found what they were looking for. It was an unnamed monster that amplified the powers of those around it and essentially made creatures run wild.

            They went off to gear up and, in Mickey’s room, Ian caught up with him.

            “I can’t save you from that,” Ian said.

            “You don’t have to,” Mickey replied.

            “You don’t understand.” Ian stepped into the room and grabbed the gun in Mickey’s hand, affectively catching his attention. “I’m an angel and I can’t promise you protection against this thing.”

            “So?”

            “So I’m saying you’re going to die.”

            “I’ve done it before.” Mickey wrenched the gun from Ian’s grasp and stuffed it in his duffel bag. He zipped it shut and turned towards Ian. He expected the angel to get out his way, but he didn’t.

            Ian kissed him, soft and light.

            When he backed off, Mickey said, “What was that for?”

            Ian shrugged. “I can hear thoughts, prayers, directed my way. And days ago, you wanted to kiss me.”

            “Right,” Mickey said. He cursed himself for thinking that, even as his lips tingled. Then he cleared his throat. “Right, well, I have to go hunt and monster and whatever. See you there?”

            Ian nodded. “I’ll come with you.”

 

Mickey and Mandy drove three days to get to the central convergence of the activity. Along the way they had to stop and fight through packs of werewolves and vampires, killing the occasional zombie when they passed by a cemetery. Where they went, they left someone with the knowledge of how to kill the monsters to pass on to others.

            And they drove right into the fire fight.

            Black smoke came out the windows of an abandoned warehouse. Creatures huddled around it, calm. Mickey and Mandy walked through them on high alert, but none of them moved. Near the convergence, they were peaceful. And it occurred to them then that they had all been attacking to get closer to the monster.

            At the door, they double-checked their weapons and faced each other. Mickey waited an extra moment before he gave his sister a hug. He’d half expected Ian to show up, but he guessed the angel was busy. That or he really couldn’t protect Mickey from this thing.

            They entered the building and spread out, looking through the black smoke for the creature. Except it quickly became clear through the movements of the smoke that it was the creature. Shots and blades did nothing to it.

            Mickey worked his way towards the middle of the room, hoping to find some sort of solid centre. But there was nothing, just an energy source that was slowly draining him so that he felt nothing but fatigue. He set off a couple more shots but once Mandy yelled, “You almost shot me, asshole!” he put his gun away and stuck to his knives.

            Near the centre of the room, he collapsed to his knees and started to crawl forward. His bones felt five times heavier, his head felt fuzzy, and the world felt turned on its axis. He wanted Ian. He thought Ian would help him, even if he couldn’t protect him. Ian was all he really needed.

            The light beamed down from the sky, white and bright, and then Ian was knelt before Mickey. He laid his palms down on Mickey’s cheeks, checked him carefully for injuries, and then whispered, “What’s wrong?”

            “I can’t fight it,” Mickey said.

            “I’m not strong enough to beat it,” Ian said.

            “I know. But the others. The others like you. The other angels.” Mickey was rambling, but he was desperate. He knew somewhere in the warehouse Mandy had to be in a similar state and she didn’t have an angel watching over her. He’d die if he had to, but he didn’t want her to. “All of you together, could you beat it?”

            Ian hesitated. “We could try.”

            “Then try. Please. For me.”

            “I can’t just do things for you.”

            Mickey found the last of his strength and pushed himself closer to Ian. He touched their lips, barely a kiss, just a brush, and then said, “I’m trusting you.”

 

Mickey woke back at the bunker, laid out on his bed, the world spinning around him. He sat up too fast but couldn’t be bothered to care. “Mandy,” he said.

            “I’m here,” she said. She walked in the door carrying a tray of food and dropped it onto his bed. “You were out for a long time.”

            “How long?”

            She shrugged. “A few days.”

            “And you weren’t?”

            “I didn’t do something stupid like transfer the last of my strength to an angel so he and his friends could zap the funky black thing in the warehouse,” Mandy said. “Not doing that comes with a lot of benefits.”

            “Doing it might have saved the world,” Mickey retorted.

            Mandy snorted. “Don’t let your head get that big.”

            Mickey smiled and picked up a piece of toast. Ripping it with his teeth, he mumbled, “Where’s Ian?”

            Mandy shrugged again. “He hasn’t been around since he carried you to your bed damsel-like, but I imagine that now you’re up he’ll pop in. That seems to be how it works. He appears wherever you go.”

            Mickey smiled.

            “Do you believe in God now?” Mandy asked.

            “No,” Mickey said. “But I believe in angels.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to formally apologize for that ending.


	5. Suits

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Suits AU: Ian owns a company and has a fiancè. Mickey starts to work there as secretary. He fall in love with Ian. He starts to pay attention at all that regards Ian, like his favorite foods, drinks, recognizes his mood. He knows everything about Ian more than his fiancè. Mickey declares his love and kisses him. Ian freaks out and he fires him. After 2 weeks, in which he feels Mickey's absence and feeling miserable, Ian realizes that he loves him

“Donna!” Ian yelled. When no footsteps came running, he looked up from the papers in his hands and towards the desk out front. He could see the outline of a head from where he stood, but not much more. “Donna!” he tried again. “These are the wrong papers.”

            “I’m not fucking Donna,” came the reply. And two seconds later a man walked into the room, a folder in his hands. He slammed it down on the desk in front of Ian and looked up at him with bright blue eyes. “I was told to remind you that Donna fucking quit.”

            “You can’t say fuck in a law office,” Ian said, floored.

            Floored because the man standing in front of him, the man who had grown up to be absolutely gorgeous, was Mickey Milkovich, his old neighbourhood thug. And here he was, dressed in a button down shirt and black pants, wearing nice shoes and a blue tie. And he looked like he had no fucking clue who Ian even was.

            “I’ll say whatever the fuck I want,” Mickey replied. He smirked a little bit, just the corner of his mouth upturned. “What? I’m supposed to be impressed now that your name’s on the wall, Gallagher?”

            Ian laughed. He offered Mickey his hand and, while he gave him a strange look, Mickey shook it all the same. Ian said, “What the hell are you doing here?”

            “Temp office sent me over since you’re out a secretary,” Mickey said. “Front desk said you wouldn’t remember that she quit.”

            Ian shrugged. “I remembered. Just hoped it wasn’t true.”

            Mickey smiled. “Well, now you’ve got me back, so it’s all good, right?”

            Ian’s smile faltered slightly. He opened his mouth to reply, then shut it tight. There was no telling what Mickey meant by the comment. True, they had been together when they were younger. They’d been together for quite a while before Mickey ended up in jail and Ian ended up in college and they’d gone their separate ways for good. At one point or another, Ian had thought he was in love with Mickey. Now he knew better.

            “Just so you know,” Ian said, his words coming slower than he thought they had to. He was nervous. He was nervous around Mickey fucking Milkovich. Ten seconds with the guy and he felt like a teenager again, with his whole life ahead of him and nothing else to worry about but when Mickey might take off again. Or when he might take off again. He took a deep breath and finished his sentence too fast. “I’mengagednow.”

            “What?”

            “I’m engaged.”

            Mickey’s smile faltered ever so slightly, then he shrugged. “You think I’ve been sitting around waiting for you for the last ten years? I’m not that fucking desperate, Gallagher.”

            “You really can’t say fuck here.”

            “Try to fucking stop me.”

            “I’m the boss. I can have you fired.”

            “I’m a temp. I don’t give a shit.” Mickey flipped him off and walked back outside to the desk.

            Ian stared as Mickey got settled again and watched the outline of his head for a few moments. He remembered trailing his fingers through those black locks, pulling Mickey in by them, and listening to the sweet sound of his groans fill a room. But he shook his head. That was far in the past. He loved someone else now. He loved him a lot.

 

“What the hell are you talking about?” Ian hissed. He was very aware of the fact that his office door was open and that if he raised his voice even an inch, Mickey would overhear him. But he couldn’t simply walk over and shut the door. Then Mickey would know something was up and listen over the phone. “You have to be back home _by tomorrow._ ”

            “I’m telling you, I can’t,” Ian’s fiancé, David, said. “There’s a lot to get done here and it’s not going to be done by tomorrow.”

            “Then fly back in anyway and back out again the day after. We have the money.”

            “It’s not about the money,” David said, the words forming a sigh of their own. He paused a long time before he spoke again, giving Ian plenty of time to get angry. “It’s about the project. I want this house to be perfect and I can’t just leave the contractors here on their own to mess it up. They barely know how to do it.”

            “You could’ve hired better contractors.”

            “It wasn’t in the budget.”

            Ian shut his mouth around the words, “You could’ve used my money.” Because it wasn’t supposed to be his money anymore. It was supposed to be _their_ money. And David had made it clear that the money used on projects was the money of the people who owned the house, not their money. Although Ian thought that was bullshit.

            David really had no problem with Ian buying him stuff, which was part of the reason it pissed Ian off that he wouldn’t take offered money. He preferred to bitch about his underrated crew and lack of materials rather than just spend a few extra bucks to make his life easier. Ian remembered what it was like to live that life, what it was like to have nothing more than the few dollars in your pockets, but life wasn’t like that anymore. Not for him and not for David. So why David insisted on still living like that, Ian would never understand.

            “I need you at this event tomorrow night,” Ian said, changing tactics. “Please. It’s important that the partners see us as a united couple and not as separate entities. They want to know that you’re not going to run off on me and try to take half the company.”

            “Isn’t that what the prenup’s for?”

            “I don’t want a prenup.”

            “You need one.”

            “Are you going to leave me?”

            David was silent for a long moment, his way of giving Ian time to think about what he’d just said. But Ian refused to change his words.

            David said, “Of course not. But you need to think about protecting yourself and your company, just in case. Over half of marriages fail nowadays, not that I plan on us failing. And you have partners to worry about.”

            “I just need you at this party.”

            “And that’s not going to happen.”

            “Dammit, David, can’t you do anything for me?”

            “I do a lot for you. A lot. And don’t forget it.”

            Ian forced himself to take a deep breath. David had got him on his meds. David had got him a good therapist. David had got him into law school. David meant the whole entire world to him. Ian exhaled a long, slow breath. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m sorry, but I don’t want a prenup and I don’t want to have to protect you from things and I just want you at this party. Please, David. It’s one night. That’s all I’m asking.”

            “I can’t leave the contractors.”

            “David—”

            “I have to go. I’ll call tonight. I love you.” He hung up before Ian could say he loved him too.

            Ian hung up the phone with a sigh and was unsurprised to find Mickey walking into his office. He knew he had raised his voice. He didn’t, however, expect the first words out of Mickey’s mouth to be, “All secretaries listen to their boss’ phone calls. It’s part of the job description.”

            Ian smiled. “It’s not.”

            “We read in between the lines.”

            Ian shook his head.

            “The party tomorrow night a big deal?”

            Ian nodded. “First time all the partners from all the branches are going to be together. It’s supposed to be a casual gathering for everyone to get to know each other, but it’s really a way for the board to judge everyone. And by everyone, I mean me.”

            Mickey let out a low whistle. “That’s a lot of fucking pressure.”

            “Well, it’d be a lot less pressure if I could find a secretary that didn’t say ‘fuck’ so much.”

            Mickey smiled. “I’ll be on my best behaviour.”

            Ian simply smiled back and sat back down. He waited for Mickey to leave, but Mickey made no move to leave the doorway. “You know,” Ian said, “contrary to popular belief, I do still have work that I need to do.”

            “Sorry,” Mickey said. He pulled a pack of cigarettes out from his pant pocket. “I was going out and I just thought... maybe you’d need the release?”

            Ian stared at the pack for a moment. He’d quit a while ago – nicotine didn’t mix great with bipolar meds – but at the moment the temptation was too great. He could feel his fingers curling as he looked at Mickey. With a curt nod, he got up from his chair and followed Mickey down to the lobby and out of the building.

            Mickey handed Ian a cigarette and then lit it for him. Ian breathed in sweet nicotine, felt the fire in his veins calming, and felt slightly less worried about meeting with the board tomorrow night. When he saw that Mickey wasn’t smoking, he offered him the cigarette in between his fingers.

            Mickey took it without a second thought, the exchange an old memory in their hands. When he breathed in, it felt like a kind of kiss to Ian. He knew that Mickey could taste him on the paper, taste him in the drug, and he forced himself to look away. It’d been a long time since there’d been anything between him and Mickey. Mickey probably wasn’t even thinking about kissing him.

            Mickey handed back the cigarette and Ian took it, let it burn in his hand for a while before he brought it back to his lips. Still he breathed in the dusty scent of Mickey, the dirt and grime of the Southside that seemed to follow the man no matter how far he got out of the Southside. Ian was proud of Mickey for joining a temp agency, for doing something productive with his life. He was happy he was out of jail.

            When they finished the cigarette, they headed back up to the top floor of the building in a companionable silence. Mickey left Ian at the front of his office and Ian walked back to his desk alone. Once he sat down, he licked his lips and wondered how Mickey knew how to instantly make him calm.

 

The party was lame, but Ian was used to lame parties.

            Mickey, on the other hand, was not used to lame parties.

            No matter how many times Ian told himself not to, he found himself scanning the room looking for his secretary. Where was he, what was he doing, who was he talking to. He tried to convince himself that he was simply trying to save some of the more conservative guests from Mickey’s loud mouth, but in all honesty, he was trying to save Mickey from the more conservative guests.

            Ian put on a good show for the board, for the partners, faked his way through questions about where David was. David was working on a housing project. No one needed to know that it was an upscale housing development for over privileged white people. For all they knew, he was building houses in Africa and unable to come back from his charity work. Everyone seemed to assume that’s what Ian meant anyways, so he simply didn’t correct them.

            He was in the middle of a very boring conversation about the state of their business when he heard a crash from the other side of the room. One of the waiters had dropped a champagne tray on the floor and now several people were shrieking. Only Mickey had leaned over to help the man.

            Ian rushed over as well and got down on his hands and knees. Napkins piled on the floor in front of him.

            “This is your event,” Mickey said. “You probably shouldn’t be on the floor.”

            “You’re a guest. You probably shouldn’t be either.”

            “I’ve worked as a waiter before. It’s not easy to clean up these spills when there are people around,” Mickey said. He didn’t expand on the anecdote, just continued to clean while the waiter told both men that he had everything under control, that everything would be fine.

            Ian could feel the champagne soaking into the knees of his suit and knew his clothes would be ruined by the time he got up off the floor. Mickey’s would be ruined too. He lost himself in a fantasy of bringing Mickey back to his office to clean up, of kissing him there, of making love to him on the desk. But he shook his head to break off the thoughts. Instead, he let Mickey go off to the bathroom to clean up and went back to his office himself.

            He was halfway through buttoning up a clean shirt when there was a knock on the door.

            Mickey was on the other side looking sheepish, the stains on his clothes dabbed dry but still obvious. He stepped inside. “I was wondering if maybe you had another pair of pants and a shirt?” he asked.

            “Yeah,” Ian said. He pulled the stuff out of a desk drawer and handed them over. Their fingers brushed at the transfer, sparked, and Ian pulled back too fast. The shirt on top fell to the floor and Mickey had to bend down to get it. “Sorry.”

            “Don’t worry about it,” Mickey said. He started to shuck off his pants and shirt without a second thought.

            Ian cleared his throat. “Don’t you want to do that in the bathroom?”

            “Nothing you haven’t seen before.”

            Ian was silent. He looked away.

            When Mickey was finished dressing, he said, “Hey.”

            Ian looked up. “Yeah?”

            “This is stupid,” Mickey said. He took a step forward and Ian’s heart skipped a beat. He forced it back down. “This is really fucking stupid.” Mickey took a handful of the front of Ian’s shirt and pulled him forward into a rough kiss. He broke away and said, “I don’t want you getting married to some guy who couldn’t even catch a fucking flight to help you out. Hell, I don’t want you getting fucking married to anyone. Gallagher, how long do we have to do this before we fucking figure out that it’s supposed to be you and me?”

            Ian stared at him for a long moment, then shook his head. “I’m engaged, Mick. We can’t—”

            “Bullshit, we can’t. Since when have we started listening to things people tell us we can’t do?”

            “Since the real world finally fucking caught up with us, Mick,” Ian snapped. “Look around. Does this look like the Southside to you? No. This is my law office where lawyers work under _me_. I am the boss of this place. I make decisions that affect this company. I don’t just run off with the first guy to show me a little affection.”

            “Not the first guy,” Mickey said. “Your first love, your first real boyfriend. I mean more to you than some guy who builds houses in fucking Africa and you can’t lie to me about that.”

            “Maybe you do, but that doesn’t mean—”

            “Doesn’t mean what? That we should be together? That’s exactly what it fucking means, Ian.” Mickey pulled him back in for another bruising kiss, their tongues clashing together and his hands around Ian’s neck. There was something desperate and begging in the kiss, something hard and mysterious and so unlike Mickey that it made it easy for Ian to push him away.

            “No,” Ian said. “We can’t.”

            “Fine.” Mickey took a step away. “Ruin your fucking life. See if I care.”

            “You’re fired.”

            “I quit.”

            Ian fell back into his chair as he watched Mickey walk away.

 

Ian spent weeks with the new temp, refusing to hire another secretary even though resumes were thrown his way by various partners in the law firm. It felt wrong even to see the temp at the desk, even though Mickey had only been there three days. Mickey belonged in that spot now, like he had belonged in so many places back home. That was the real reason that Ian had had to get out.

            But he kept lying to himself. He kept telling himself that as soon as David came home, as soon as David was done with this project, everything would fall back into place again. His perfect life would become his again. He would be a named partner at a law firm with a wonderful fiancé and soon to be happy marriage. That was what he wanted for his life, not Mickey Milkovich and the complications that came along with his record.

            The days came and went, and Ian kept thinking about Mickey. He’d think about him when he passed the secretary’s desk, when the wrong folder was given to him, when he went out for a smoke. He smoked a lot more now. He thought maybe it would calm his nerves, but it just seemed to make everything worse when the cigarettes didn’t taste like Mickey.

            The day David came back from California, Ian decided.

            Ian decided he was in love and it wasn’t with his fiancé.

            So David came home to packed bags and Ian sitting on the couch, ready to break the news. They fought for a long time, fought about Mickey and how badly this would go with the partners. They fought about their own relationships and their own problems. By the end of the night, both of them were exhausted.

            David finally said, “If you want to go, then I don’t want you here.”

            “I don’t want to be here,” Ian said. “You can have the apartment and I’ll go sleep at a hotel.”

            “I want the ring back.”

            Ian gave it to him. If he was being honest, he didn’t feel any attachment to it whatsoever. At one point in his life, he had been in love with David. At one point in his life, David had been the right thing for him. David had gotten him out of the gutter and into law school and on a good path in his life. But now that that path had been set, Ian just didn’t feel anything other than obligation towards him.

            So he left.

            But he didn’t go to a hotel like he told David he would. Instead, he looked up Mickey in the directory and found his apartment in the city. He walked down the back streets with his expensive luggage, hoping he didn’t look fancy enough to get mugged. (He did, of course, but he hoped his Southside roots would keep the inevitable from happening.) Eventually he found the hole-in-the-wall, basement apartment and knocked on the door.

            Mickey opened it, took one look at the suitcases, and gave Ian an unimpressed look. “What? You think it’s been weeks and I’ll just take you back with a snap of my fingers?”

            “You were ready to take me back like that weeks ago. And then it’d been years.”

            “Years when I thought you leaving me was an accident, not some calculated decision to further your image of a perfect life,” Mickey said. “You’re not the boy I knew anymore and you’re not the person I fell in love with.”

            “Maybe that’s a good thing.”

            “What’s good about that?”

            “We weren’t good to each other, Mick. We were big fights and make-up sex and abandoning each other at our weakest moments.” Ian set down the suitcase in his hand and took a step closer to Mickey. Mickey, ever the immovable wall, didn’t even flinch. “We tore at each other until there was nothing left and then were surprised when it didn’t work out in the end. I don’t want to be that couple again.”

            “Then what do you want?”

            “You.” Ian leaned in and kissed him, a light peck on the lips. “I hope you’re not the same person anymore. I hope that we both grew up in ten years. I hope that this is still something that can work between us. But if it’s not, I’ll get up and go. No hard feelings.”

            “No hard feelings?” Mickey repeated, deadpan. Then his signature smirk gave him away and he pulled Ian in for a real kiss, even stumbled back into the apartment a few steps. He kissed him a few times before he said, “You better at least get me better digs if you’re gonna come here saying tooth-rotting shit like that.”

            Ian smiled. “Deal.”

 

Two years later...

            Once again, Ian had a ring on his finger, except this time, it felt right.

            He and Mickey were both different people now, no longer the crazy Southside kids that had gotten themselves into messes. What they had was solid, real, and they took care of each other for all that it was worth.

            The board, miraculously, approved of Mickey. Of course, Mickey still insisted on a prenup to protect Ian, but Ian wasn’t worried that it would be needed, so he signed it without a second thought.

            And he and Mickey lived happily ever after.


	6. Never Forget

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post 5x12. Mickey doesn't end up in jail. He finds out that his mother is alive and a Shadowhunter. He decides to become a Shadowhunter like her. He and Ian meet again after 2 years. Mickey is with Alec, Magnus, Izzy, Simon, Clary and Jace for a demon hunt. Ian has never forgot Mickey.

Mickey perked up when the officer banged on the bars of the cell. Not that he was expecting anyone to come and post his bail – Ian had made it pretty clear he was done with him and Mandy was long gone, too far away to have heard the news yet.

            But the officer called his name and Mickey got to his feet. He was lead out into the main area and who he saw there almost stopped his heart. It was his mom – but also not his mom. She looked stronger, healthier, and wore a smile that Mickey had never seen before. She was also covered in black tattoos.

            “Mom?” he said. He couldn’t help it – he ran right into her arms and hugged her to make sure she was real. “What the fuck? Where were you? I thought you died!”

            “I got out,” she said. She smoothed a hand through Mickey’s hair and her smile softened. “It’s so good to see you again.”

            Mickey batted her away. “You think posting my bail makes up for abandoning us for years?”

            “I had to get out of there,” she said. “Your father was beating me senseless. So this time, when the Clave came to ask if I wanted to join their ranks, I said yes.”

            “The Clave? What are you talking about?”

            “A lot’s happened. And a lot more is going to happen. You’re coming back to the Institute with me and we’ll go from there, okay?” she said. “All you need to know is that you’re safe now. You’re safe.

 

Two years later...

            Mickey stayed close to Alec and Magnus as they approached the demon nest. It was inside a club and, of course, Izzy had decided the best time to attack was at night. Magnus had agreed with her. The only person with enough sense to disagree was Alec and, as always, he was out-voted.

            Mickey liked to think he was on the same side as Alec, but with only six months at the New York Institute under his belt, he was uncomfortable voicing his opinion just yet. He let Alec know he was on his side when he could and he felt they had the kind of silent friendship that was needed in a team.

            But since he was usually at odds with Jace – and therefore at odds with Clary – he stayed away from them in a fight. Isabelle hung out with all of the group, the easy middle ground between the two sides, and tried to keep them together. Her boyfriend, Simon, stayed close to her side, not necessarily on either side, just true neutral.

            Because of Isabelle, they headed towards the club as one team and got in with a flip of her hair. Mickey felt uncomfortable in the fancy clothes – silk shirt, designer jeans – but he was told it was part of the cover. Alec gave him an apologetic look, clearly also uncomfortable dressed up.

            “Back corner,” Isabelle said.

            Mickey followed her nod to the blue corner of the club where a large bodyguard blocked off a booth. Several creatures with madly blue eyes and human forms played with the hair of drugged party girls. Mickey wanted to rush right in, but he made himself wait and ask, “What’s the plan?”

            “I’ll distract the guard,” Izzy said, “Jace will take him out. The rest of you get the demons.”

            “Easy enough,” Mickey mumbled. He started through the crowd, shoving people out of his way at random, trying to keep his place in the fan of the team. He had his eyes on Isabelle, watching her move through the crowd, when he bumped into someone who held on.

            Mickey turned, ready to shove whoever it was on the floor, when he recognized the green eyes looking back at him. He froze in place, as did Ian.

            “Mickey,” Ian said. He let go abruptly, but neither of the two moved. “I... I’m sorry. I just thought you were some assholes pushing people around.”

            “I am,” Mickey said.

            Ian stared for a long moment, his lips moving around words that didn’t quite come out. “I, umm... Can I buy you a drink?”

            “I’m kinda in the middle of something.”

            “Like a date?”

            Mickey glanced towards the booth quick, then looked back at Ian. Isabelle wasn’t quite at the bodyguard, so he had a little more time before everyone wondered where the fuck he was. And he wasn’t about to explain that his ex, his ex who was a guy, had waylaid him from a mission.

            “No,” Mickey said. “Just with some people, that’s all.”

            “You lost ‘em in the crowd? I didn’t even know you moved to New York.”

            “I didn’t know you moved to New York.”

            “Nah, I’m just here for the week. Doing an internship with a web design firm. Some underprivileged kids bullshit. You know,” Ian said. He rubbed at the back of his neck and bit down on his bottom lip. “Are you doing okay?”

            Mickey looked over his shoulder again. “Look, I really gotta go.”

            Ian stopped him with a hand on his arm. “Hey,” he said, grip light, nothing Mickey couldn’t shake off. But Mickey felt chills going up his arm. He remembered that touch, those fingers, everything about the man in front of him. And two years had done nothing to numb the pain of how they’d left things. Ian dropped his hand. “I’m doing better. I’m on my meds, I’m at a good job, I’m living a good life.”

            “Well, good for you.”

            “I never forgot you, Mick. I made a terrible mistake.”

            Mickey felt his heart break in his chest at the desperation in Ian’s words. But that break just made all the anger he’d boarded up come to the front lines and he had no idea how to pull it back. So he snapped. “You think I care about your nice, cushy lifestyle? You think I give a damn about where you ended up? You left me. You told me I couldn’t fix you and you were right. You were right about everything. So how about you just leave me the fuck alone?”

            “Mick,” Ian said, voice soft, almost too soft to be heard over the pounding music of the club. But Mickey could read his lips, he could read those lips anywhere. “I love you. I made a mistake and I love you.”

            “Not here.”

            “Then where? Name a time and a place and I’ll be there.”

            “Nowhere!” Mickey groaned and looked over his shoulder. The fight was wrapping up; he’d missed the whole thing and he could really use something to punch at the moment. “You can’t see me again, okay? I came here to get away from you.” And the ghosts of him, but Mickey didn’t add that part.

            “Please, let me explain,” Ian said. “It’s been... hard without you. But I think I needed the time and—”

            “You really think this is the place?” Mickey snapped.

            “You’re not gonna give me any other time.”

            Mickey bit his bottom lip and looked around again. He couldn’t see his team anywhere in the crowd, so he settled on focusing back on Ian. “You’re right. I’m not. Because I don’t need to know what you’re going to say. You left me. You left me with your crazy-ass sister shooting at me and my ass in jail and you didn’t give half a fuck.”

            “I was messed up!”

            “You’re always messed up!”

            Ian bawked at the accusation and took a step back. His mouth was half open, ready for another try, when Alec came up behind Mickey. Mickey felt his presence and immediately wanted everything else in the world to go downhill.

            “Is there a problem here?” Alec asked.

            “No,” Mickey said.

            Ian eyed Alec. “This your new boyfriend?”

            “No,” Mickey said again, feeling the heat on his cheeks rise.

            “Then what?” Ian said. “Your new fuck buddy? Your new me? What do you call him?”

            “Ian, shut up.”

            Alec took a step in between the two of them. He raised an arm to stop either of them from stepping forward and looked at them in turn. “I don’t know what’s going on here, but Mickey needs to leave. Now.”

            Mickey took a step back, ready to comply, but Ian called, “Wait. Two more minutes. Please.”

            Alec looked back at Mickey, who shook his head. “Sorry,” Alec said, “Protocol.” And he stepped backwards to join Mickey as he walked out of the club.

 

They went back to the Institute in silence.

            Mickey thought he was off the hook until Alec whispered something to Magnus and then followed Mickey back towards his room. Without hesitation, Mickey left the door open so Alec could follow him in. Then he sat down heavily on the end of the bed and shucked off his boots.

            “What?” Mickey asked.

            “Look, I’ve got no problem protecting you from your asshole boyfriends,” Alec said, and Mickey almost smiled. Leave it to Alec to act like the big brother to everyone in the group, family or not. “But I’m going to need a little more of a heads up in the future.”

            “What kind of heads up?”

            “Where they live, for starters. I thought they’d be back in Chicago if there were any. And how many. And how likely they are to interfere with future missions.”

            “There’s only Ian,” Mickey said. “And he doesn’t live here; he’s here for some stupid internship. And if we run into him again, he’s gonna interfere.”

            Alec nodded and paced the room once, twice, before coming to a stop in front of Mickey. “The others are wondering where you were during the fight,” he said. “What do you want me to tell them?”

            “Tell ‘em I fucked up. Got waylaid by some partygoers.”

            “If that’s what you want.”

            Mickey nodded. Before Alec left, he added, “Don’t tell the others anything else, okay?”

            “Like?”

            “That I’m gay.”

            Alec paused in the doorway, his fingers tapping against the frame. “You know they won’t care.”

            Mickey nodded again but didn’t change his statement. Alec left and Mickey fell back onto the bed. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and flicked through the contacts. Absently, he wondered if Ian had the same phone number. Ian definitely had the same face, the same smile as in his contact picture. Maybe a little worse for wear, but nothing that made him look all that different.

            Mickey didn’t know why he’d never deleted him as a contact. He had no idea how he’d managed to be in Chicago for a year and a half and never run into him, but as soon as he came to New York he ran smack dab into him. The world was a funny place and it wanted him to suffer.

            Making a split second decision, Mickey pressed down on the call button. Ian probably didn’t have the same number anymore. And if he did, Mickey needed to make it clear things were over. That he didn’t want to see Ian again and that if he did, Ian should stay away from him. He didn’t want the rest of the team getting in trouble because Ian waylaid him again.

            “Hello?” Ian said, his voice heavy and breathless.

            Mickey’s stomach curled. Of course Ian had found someone else after he’d left him at the club. Of course Ian had gone home with someone else.

            He was just about to hang up when Ian said, “Mickey?”

            “Yeah.”

            Ian fought to get his breath under control. “You called. I thought... well, I thought you were done with me.”

            “I am. I told you—”

            “Then why’d you call? To tell me the same thing again?”

            “Maybe.”

            “Meet me for coffee. Half an hour. The Starbucks off fourteenth.” Then Ian hung up.

            Mickey stared at his phone for a long moment and then took off his shirt. If he had to meet Ian, he wasn’t going like he’d just been clubbing.

 

Ian sat at a table near the back, tapping his fingers on the table and checking his phone. Mickey watched him for a solid ten minutes before he went in, careful to make sure his invisibility rune had worn off by the time he entered.

            Ian looked up at the bell and smiled. “You came,” he said.

            “You didn’t give me much of a choice,” Mickey said. He slid into the seat across from Ian and stared at him. “So why am I here? What else do you have to say to me?”

            “Your boyfriend’s not going to be mad you’re here?”

            “He’s not my boyfriend.”

            Ian smiled, but swallowed it quickly. “Look, like I was saying in the club, I think I needed the time apart from you. Just to see what I was really missing. We weren’t all that good to each other and I thought... well, I thought that maybe there was something better out there.”

            Mickey snorted. “And now you know there’s not?”

            “I haven’t met anyone who loved me half as much as you did,” Ian said. “I haven’t met anyone who tried to take care of me, who dealt with my mood swings, who wanted the best for me.” He swallowed and looked down at his blank phone again. “Yeah. We were bad for each other. Abusive and mean and I cheated a lot and... I don’t know how many other things were wrong with our relationship. But there was a lot of good there too.”

            “And what? You think we can get all the good back without any of the bad?”

            “I’m not saying it won’t be work but—”

            “It’ll be impossible, Ian,” Mickey said. He made sure to catch Ian’s gaze, to not let the other man look away. “We’re not good for each other, okay? We’re just not.”

            “We can try to be.”

            “And then what? What happens the next time you get annoyed at me for trying to take care of you or the next time some hot guy makes a pass at you in the supermarket?” Mickey bit his bottom lip hard and shook his head. “Or what happens if I can’t handle the moods swings? What’s next for us other than another break-up?”

            “An engagement, a marriage, maybe a baby,” Ian said. He grabbed Mickey’s hand across the table. “I prefer to think positive.”

            Mickey took back his hand. “I prefer to think realistic.”

            “I’m sorry, okay?” Ian said. “Is that what you want to hear? Because I’m sorry about everything and I’ll make no excuses for anything that I did. I’m sorry. And I want you back. It’s the only thing I want.”

            Mickey licked his lips. A part of him needed to take back the man in front of him, but he knew that he couldn’t. Falling in love with a mundane was grounds for termination from the Shadowhunter community, and he couldn’t let his new family go. He couldn’t survive without Alec or Isabelle or even Jace. It’d only been six months, but they were his team, his family, and he couldn’t let Ian ruin that.

            “I’m sorry,” Mickey said. He stood up from the table. “I can’t.”

            Ian looked like he was about to say something else, but decided against it. He bit his bottom lip and looked down at the table. Mickey took that as his cue to leave and didn’t look back until he was back out the door. If he saw Ian shed a tear, he couldn’t say that that didn’t sway him.

 

“You’re an idiot,” Alec said after Mickey told him the whole story.

            “Thanks,” Mickey said.

            “You love him, don’t you? And you want to be with him?”

            “Of course, but—”

            “Then screw the Clave,” Alec said. “The Clave didn’t want me to be gay, didn’t want me with Magnus, and I say screw them. If you want to be with a human, be with a human. And deal with the Clave afterwards.”

            Mickey stared up at Alec for a long moment and then nodded. “Thanks.”

            “Anytime.”

 

Mickey Googled internships in New York to find the one Ian worked for. He had to try five different web design buildings with programs for underprivileged kids before he asked for Ian at the door and got ushered inside.

            Ian sat at a computer terminal all by himself, cursing under his breath. Mickey stood and watched him for a second before approaching and tapping him on the shoulder. “Hey,” Mickey said.

            Ian’s headphones fell from his ears. For a moment, his eyes looked hopeful, but then he shut it all down. “What?” he said. “Come here to reject me again?”

            Mickey shook his head. “I have something to tell you, and it’s kind of a long story.”

            Ian checked the time. “I have my lunch break.”

            The two headed out for lunch and Mickey spent the time explaining the world he’d been thrown into after Ian broke up with him and what that meant for them and their relationship. He made sure to emphasize _them_ and _relationship_ and saw Ian’s smile broaden at the words.

            Ian kissed him before he went back up to his office and Mickey held on for a little longer than he needed to. He felt like he was walking on clouds. Fuck the Clave. He and Ian had made it through much worse than them, they would make it through this.


	7. Vampires (Oh My!)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: mysterious Milkovich siblings return to Chicago & Ian is instantly drawn to them. The siblings have a secret, wonder what that could be?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I've seen Vampire Diaries like twice in my life and got most of this info from my sister, so hopefully I did it justice? I tried.  
> Very slightly NSFW

Ian walked into school convinced that there was nothing that could make the first day of school dread leave him. But he was proved wrong within the first five minutes. While at his locker talking to Lip, the front doors opened in perfect sync.

            Framed by the doors were two kids, a boy and a girl. The girl was short, with reddish-brown hair, her eyes dramatically lined in black and dressed head-to-toe in black. Beside her, the boy hard dark hair, stunning blue eyes, and wore dark wash jeans with a black t-shirt. He strode forward like he’d just gotten off a horse, where she walked with all the grace of a broken ballerina.

            “Who are they?” Ian asked, interrupting Lip mid-sentence.

            Lip glanced their way, checked out the girl, then shrugged. “Milkoviches.”

            “Terry has kids?”

            “He’s their uncle,” Lip said. “Apparently the siblings are moving in so they ‘get taught a lesson’ or whatever. Hate to see what kind of parents think that Terry is fit punishment for any crime.”

            Ian nodded and his eyes followed Mickey through the crowd. Then Mickey looked back at him and for one heart-stopping moment, those blue eyes met his. His heart stuttered and then the look was gone, Mickey was gone, everything was gone, all at once. Except for Lip yelling his name and snapping fingers in his face.

            “Jesus,” Lip said, once Ian came back, “I’ve never seen you so hot for a guy before.”

            “Tell me you don’t feel it,” Ian said. “The way they make the air change. The world move. You’ve got to feel that.”

            Lip smirked. “Haven’t fallen that hard for a girl in years, sorry.”

            Ian shook his head. Somehow he knew it was more than that.

 

It turned out that the girl, Mandy, was in Ian’s Chem class. When the teacher had them pick lab partners, he introduced himself to her and sidled into the seat next to her. She seemed unimpressed by him, quiet, and unlikely to say much about her brother. But it was the only in that Ian could think of.

            She sat through the class fiddling with a ring on her hand.

            “That’s a cool ring,” Ian said. “Can I see it?”

            Mandy scanned him for a moment and then held out her hand. She turned it both ways than brought it back to her chest, twisted the ring again as the sun glinted off of it. Never once did she twist it all the way off.

            “You like Chicago so far?” Ian tried.

            She shrugged. “I used to live here.”

            “Oh, yeah? When?”

            “When I was younger.”

            Ian bit his lip and looked back at the worksheet in front of him. Getting to a guy through his sister wasn’t the best tactic, but it was the only one he had. So he decided to drop the pretence. “Your brother seems like a pretty cool guy,” Ian said.

            Mandy smiled, almost laughed. “Your definition of ‘cool’ could use some work.”

            “Why’s that?”

            “He’s a psycho,” she said. “Followed me all the way here even though I told him not to a hundred times. He thinks I can’t take care of myself around Terry.”

            “Your uncle?”

            She glanced at him. “Sure.”

            Ian tapped his pencil against the desk. “You want to come over tonight and work on this? There’s no way we’re going to finish it all before the bell rings.”

            “You don’t want to invite me into your house.”

            “Sure I do,” Ian said. “We could watch bad TV and eat junk food and get this finished without wanting to blow our brains out. My sister’s cool. She’ll definitely let you hang out for a while before she gets all gung-ho about our homework.”

            “Don’t invite me over,” Mandy said, her voice harsh and musical all at once. Ian felt himself getting lost in her blue eyes, the same as her brother’s, deep and flecked with white. “You don’t want me in your house.”        

            “I don’t want you in my house,” Ian repeated, although he wasn’t sure why he said it. He wasn’t sure why he _meant it_ , but in the moment, he did.

            “Good.” She shut her book right as the bell rang. “I won’t see you then.”

            Ian opened his mouth to reply, but found that he couldn’t. Instead, he packed up his things and headed off to his next class, half-hoping the other Milkovich would be there, half-dreading it.

 

Ian was at his desk struggling through Chem problems when the doorbell rang. He waited a few moments to see if anyone else would get it, then got up from his desk and pounded down the stairs. He opened the door to find Mickey Milkovich standing on the welcome mat.

            “Invite me in,” Mickey said.

            Ian’s blood ran cold just looking at him. There was something feral in his eyes that made Ian want to close the door in his face, but he didn’t. “What do you want?” he asked.

            “Invite me in.”

            “Tell me what you want.”

            “Are you fucking with my sister? You want in her pants?” Mickey said. “She’s got enough shit to deal with without you around, you got that? Now invite me in.”

            “I want nothing from your sister,” Ian said. He tapped his fingers against the door, but he felt oddly safe on this side of the threshold. If Mickey wanted to, he could step over and slam him into the wall. But he hadn’t yet. “I’m gay,” Ian added, just in case that made a difference. Just so he could see if any interest flickered through Mickey’s eyes.

            And it did. Just for a second, a spark of _something_ flew through the blue and then disappeared. Then Mickey himself was gone, rapid fast, just off the doorstep in the blink of an eye.

            Ian was left chilled in front of the open door, fall air blowing in. He shut the door and turned to find Lip standing behind him, a sucker in his mouth.

            “You may have no intentions for his sister, but I sure do,” Lip said with a smile. “She was in my gym class and damn, the girl’s got something. Pretty friendly too, except she didn’t want to come over.”

            “Yeah, I had the same problem with her,” Ian said. “And the opposite with Mickey.”

            “Why didn’t you let him in? Coulda led to somethin’.”

            “Occur to you that he could have just stepped in?” Ian said. He leaned back against the door just to feel the solid wood between him and the outside world. “Like, if he really wanted to lay a hand on me, he could’ve just grabbed me.”

            Lip shrugged. “Maybe someone taught him some manners.”

            Ian laughed. “He look like anyone’s taught him manners?”

            “Some guys like that have nice moms,” Lip said. Then he walked off.

            Ian thought it was more than manners though. There was something off about both of the Milkoviches, from the identical rings they wore to their opposite wishes to come in his house to the weird way Mandy had managed to convince him not to invite her over. He had an idea, but it seemed ridiculous.

            He walked into the kitchen and opened up the laptop on the counter. Opening a Google page, he typed in: won’t enter a house without permission.

            And sure enough, the first result was: vampire.

 

Ian walked home from school alone the next day. Usually he walked home with Lip, but his brother was oddly absent. Most likely he’d gotten lucky with his most recent target and forgotten to text Ian to let him know that he’d be alone that afternoon.

            He got home and was halfway through his homework by the time the door burst open. Ian heard stumbling footsteps, cursing and coughing from the foyer. He got up from his desk and ambled down the stairs, starting to rush once he saw the scene before him.

            Lip was beaten into a bloody pulp. One of his eyes was swollen shut, his lip was cut down the side, and bloody marks marred his neck. He was pale as a ghost and one of his legs looked broken as it hung limply while the other supported his weight. There were bloody smears on the wall from where Lip had used his hand to steady himself.

            “Fiona!” Ian yelled. “First Aid kit!”

            He grabbed onto his brother’s arm and pulled him into the living room. Settling him on the couch, he wiped away the worst of the blood with his shirt sleeve to minimize Fiona’s concern. Then he let her get to work when she arrived. She quickly wiped Lip down with antiseptic and bandaged him up, the whole time muttering about giving the son of a bitch a piece of her mind.

            Lip refused to say who did it though, a rarity for him. Not that he wanted his big sister finishing his fights for him, far from it, but he usually didn’t waste the chance to badmouth some asshole who had hit him. He’d want all the help he could get assaulting the prick.

            Fiona left and Ian stayed where he was, staring at Lip. He asked, “Was it Mickey?”

            “What?”

            “The guy who attacked you,” Ian said. “Who... bit you.” Because now that the marks on his neck had been cleaned up, it was painfully obvious they were bite marks. Fang marks. The kind that a vampire would leave behind.

            “Fuck off,” Lip said.

            “I know you want to fight your own battles, but you might be in over your head here.” Ian licked his lips and double-checked that Fiona had left the room. He didn’t need her thinking he’d lost his mind. He lowered his voice anyways. “I think that the Milkoviches might be vampires.”

            Lip laughed. “Vampires don’t exist.”

            “What if they did? The Milkoviches won’t enter a house without an invitation, Mickey sucked your blood. I did some research online and apparently there’s lore connected to those rings they wear. Rings spelled by witches let vampires walk in the sunlight.”

            Lip stared at him for a moment. “You’re serious?”

            Ian nodded.

            “Dude, you’ve lost it.”

            “Listen to me—”

            “I am and I’m telling you, you’re crazy. The Milkoviches aren’t vampires, they’re just assholes. And for future reference, when Mickey says don’t mess around with his sister, don’t mess around with his sister.”

            “Because I would,” Ian said, eyes rolling.

            Lip smirked at him, the best he could with a split lip. “Just get me some ice and get outta the way of the TV. I’ve got some rest and relaxation to cash in on.”

 

No matter what Ian said to himself, he couldn’t find it in his heart to forgive Mickey. Forget that Mickey was the most gorgeous guy he’d ever seen. Forget that his stomach did more than just backflips when he saw him. Forget that Ian was pretty sure he was already in love with the guy, despite the fact that their only conversation had been full of threats against his life. Mickey had attacked his brother. There was no forgiving that.

            In Chem that day, he waited until the lesson was over to whisper to Mandy, “I know your secret.”

            She froze and looked up at him, pure silence in her death glare.

            “You’re a vampire. You and your brother.”

            “You’re insane.”

            “I’ll list the evidence if I have to. I’ll find more if I have to. But I don’t care to expose you. I care about beating your brother.”

            “Beating him how?”

            “He hurt Lip. I want to hurt him.”

            Mandy was silent for a moment and then she shook her head. “Like I said before, Mickey’s a psycho. He’ll beat up anyone who gets near me and anyone else just for the fun of it. Stay away from him if you know what’s good for you.”

            “Do I have any chance? Any at all?”

            “Do you really think I’m going to help you beat my brother?”

            “You hate him,” Ian said. “I hate him. Why be on opposite teams here?”

            “He’s still family.”

            “He hurt my family.”

            Mandy was silent for a long moment, staring down at the worksheet in front of her. “Fine,” she said after writing down an answer that Ian was pretty sure was right. “You might have a chance at beating him. But only because of your looks.”

            “My looks?”

            “You look like his ex. Our sire,” Mandy explained. “It’s part of the reason he actually likes you. Didn’t try to tempt you out of your house when he threatened you or influence you. But that’s only going to get you in the door. If you want to hurt him, you’re gonna have to act fast, and none of your vampire movie tricks are going to work.”

            “No garlic, no stakes?”

            “A stake, maybe. But you said hurt, not kill.”

            Ian nodded. “So hit hard and fast.”

            “Even then he’s going to overpower you and he’s going to drink from you,” Mandy said. “I drink from animals, but Mickey likes the power he gets from human blood. And he needs a lot of it to sustain himself. And if you attack him, he might not be inclined to leave you alive.”

            “I’ll take my chances.”

            “I wish you wouldn’t.”

            “Compel me not to then.”

            Mandy stared at him for a second, like she was considering it, then she shook her head. “It’s your life.”

 

Ian showed up at Mickey’s house a couple of hours after school. He’d brought the baseball bat from his house in hopes that it might help him get in the first shot. After all, he didn’t need an invitation to enter a house.

            He knocked on the door anyways and it swung open under his hand. Swallowing hard, he entered the small house. It was one story, falling apart on the inside and outside. Blue paint peeled from the walls, floorboards stuck up, and a litter of unpaid bills sat stagnant on the kitchen table. What little furniture there was was scattered with holes and broken legs.

            Ian gave up his advantage. He called, “Mickey?”

            There was a grumble from deeper in the house and Ian started down the hallway, pushing open doors as he went. At the end of the hall, behind a door that clearly stated KEEP OUT on a cardboard sign, Mickey lay in bed, eyes shut.

            Ian took a deep breath and walked in. He tapped the bat against the end of the bed, made the whole structure rattle, and readied himself to swing at the sleeping boy. But as he looked at Mickey, the innocent below him, the beautiful boy with eyes of blue, he couldn’t bring himself to break him – even though he knew that Mickey would heal in the blink of an eye.

            “Hey, Mick,” Ian said. He slammed the bat down against the bed frame again, this time harder. “I’m here to teach you not to fuck with my brother.”

            Mickey groaned and turned onto his back. One of his eyes opened, a lazy smirk on his lips. His tank top had slid up his stomach, revealing deathly pale skin beneath. “A bat?” Mickey said. “You’re hard core, Gallagher.”

            “Then why don’t you seem scared?”

            “You haven’t swung it yet.”

            Ian bit down on the inside of his cheek and raised the bat. Mickey raised an eyebrow at him, daring him to just _go ahead and do it_. Ian’s grip tightened, his breath stopped, and he pictured Lip lying bloody against the foyer wall. He swung.

            Mickey grabbed the bat out of midair, wrenched it from Ian’s grasp, and snapped it in half like it was little more than a twig. He did all of this without moving much more past sitting up. Then he gestured for Ian to come forward. “Try your fists this time,” he suggested.

            Ian took a swing. Mickey grabbed his arm and rolled him onto the bed. He got on top of him and took a hard swing at Ian’s face. Ian blocked it, just barely. Mickey’s strength was too much for him to match and now he was pinned under him, legs held down by bony knees. He breathed heavily as he looked up into Mickey’s blue eyes.

            “You gonna mess me up too?” Ian asked. The desperation in his voice was hard to swallow, but he did his best, and he felt something in the air change. With the pieces of the bat discarded, the pretense of the attack on Lip was gone. Now it was just them and the charge in the air.

            Mickey lips crashed into Ian’s. Ian let the kiss come, hard and rough and a little bit bloody. He kissed back with fervour, let Mickey back off to take off his shirt and took off his own shirt in the process. Mickey got up to take off his pants and Ian slid out of his. Both of them were naked within minutes.

            Then Mickey came back to the kisses, hard and rough and biting along Ian’s neck but never breaking skin. Ian gasped under the work of Mickey’s hands trailing along his body, in between his thighs, cupping his balls, and then sliding roughly across his cock.

            “You still mad at me?” Mickey asked against Ian’s lips.

            Ian shook his head.

            “You gonna invite me into your house now?”

            “You gonna come in to do this?”

            “Yeah.”

            “Then yeah.”

           

Things between Mickey and Lip eventually became friendlier. It was hard to keep at each other’s throats when Ian was dating Mickey and Lip was dating Mandy, but they tried their very best.

            Ian was oddly okay with there being vampires in his house. Most of the time, when Mickey wasn’t feeding on him, he didn’t even remember that they were vampires. Their reflections showed up in mirrors and they walked in sunlight. As long as Lip didn’t know, everything went smoothly.


	8. Control

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Teen Wolf AU: Mickey learning to control his newly heightened senses around Ian. (A semi-sequel to the first Teen Wolf AU)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NSFW

It took Mickey approximately eight seconds to realize that he couldn’t control himself around Ian Gallagher. The kissing was one thing. The kissing got him going, got his claws out, his eyes glowing, and a hand on his chest telling him to breathe, breathe.

            But it was almost harder when he wasn’t kissing Ian, wasn’t touching him. In class, he’d look Ian’s way and he could hear the other boy’s heart beating. When Ian looked his way, he could hear the beat that it skipped and the rapid quickening that came after. He could smell Ian hallways away, use his scent to find him between classes, and find him fast enough to get in a few stolen kisses.

            Then there was their other connection. The Alpha-Beta connection. The fact that Ian was the one who _turned_ him and with a flash of those read eyes, Mickey could be a whimpering mess at his feet. Ian hadn’t done anything so dramatic yet, but Mickey was aware of the power play that lay at their feet, and it only made everything they did that much hotter.

            Mickey went over to Ian’s house one day after school, violently aware of the fact that he hadn’t been asked to bring Mandy along. Although, he shouldn’t have thought of that as unusual. Mandy was doing a much, much better job of controlling her senses than he was at their practice sessions. Of course, he was always worse at controlling his senses around Ian.

            Ian opened the door, a hunger in his eyes as they flashed from green to red. Mickey almost stopped on the spot, but forced himself to approach, every inch of him tingling. He could hear Ian’s heart beat, smell his sweat, and when he was in reach, he knew what Ian wanted. So without a word, he stepped forward and kissed Ian.

            Ian kissed him back wildly, grabbed the back of his neck and pulled him into the ramshackle house. He bit at Mickey’s lips until they opened up and their tongues slid together. Ian shoved Mickey back onto a couch and crawled on top of him, kissing him until Mickey’s claws slid out.

            Then Ian pulled back. “Here’s the deal,” he said, his eyes on Mickey’s, then on Mickey’s body, making Mickey’s thoughts run wild. Ian started again. “Here’s the deal. We go until you lose control. Every time you lose control, we stop. You got it?”

            Mickey snorted. “Is this how you teach all your Betas?”

            “Only the cute ones.”

            Whatever Mickey’s retort would have been, it was shut up with a kiss. They stopped quickly two more times before Mickey decided he needed to pay more attention to his body and less attention to Ian’s. Even with Ian’s hands on him, he needed to focus on his own hands, on the way they tightened just before the claws came out. He needed to listen to the beating of his own heart, to steady it when it got too out of control and force a change. He needed to keep track of his own breathing, even as Ian peppered kisses down the length of his neck and bit into soft skin. Mickey needed to focus on himself.

            A hard task when there was a beautiful man on top of him ready to give him anything he wanted.

            Mickey’s claws came out when Ian took his shirt off, leaving long red lines down his torso. Ian looked down at him with bored eyes, paused where he was straddled over Mickey’s hips, and waited for Mickey to get himself back under control.

            It didn’t help that this was about to be Mickey’s first time. Sure, he’d made out with a couple of girls here and there, even slept with a few of them, but he’d never been with a guy before, as much as he wanted to. He knew he should tell Ian, but a part of him didn’t want to admit the weakness. Not when Ian was already so much better than him, physically speaking.

            After a minute of deep breaths, Mickey’s claws retracted and Ian went back to kissing him. Mickey’s shirt came off next and he managed to hold his own through the sloppy kisses Ian placed across his belly.

            “You’re beautiful,” Ian murmured.

            Mickey almost laughed, but he swallowed it. “Say that when you’re a little lower.”

            Ian smiled against his skin. Then he popped the button on Mickey’s jeans, undid the zipper, and nosed down the front of Mickey’s boxers.

            Mickey lost immediately. His own challenge lost. Because of course his claws and his eyes and his heartbeat and his senses all had to shoot up at the slightest touch on his dick.

            Ian looked up at him through hooded lids, more amused than annoyed.  “Sensitive?” he said.

            “Fuck off.”

            “You need a minute?”

            Mickey almost took him up on it, knew that the pause would help him take control for longer. But he shook his head, said, “Get on with it.”

            Ian pulled down Mickey’s boxers and released his cock. Then he licked a strip down its length and Mickey’s claw shot through the fabric of the couch cushions. Ian was too preoccupied to notice, his lips around the head of Mickey’s cock, his tongue pressing into the slit. He started to slide down the length, sucking and licking, not being all that gentle with his teeth, and Mickey did his best to stay still. His claws grew further, penetrating all the way to the couch fluff, and he could feel his eyes burning. Good thing Ian’s eyes were closed in concentration.

            Then Ian swirled his tongue sinfully and the noise out of Mickey’s mouth wasn’t a moan or a whimper or anything remotely sexy – it was a growl.

            Ian popped up almost immediately, worry in his eyes. “You okay?”

            “Fine,” Mickey breathed out, even though he could feel the heat in his own eyes. His claws weren’t retracting, even without Ian’s touch.

            Ian got off of him and stood beside the couch. “Breathe,” he said. “Count to ten forwards and then backwards. You’ve got this.”

            Mickey nodded and closed his eyes. He could still feel cold air blowing past his cock and it did nothing to help the situation. On his third count to ten, he reached down and tucked himself back into his boxers. It was an uncomfortably wet and hard situation, fabric scratching against his erection, but it was better than the draft in the house.

            Slowly, Mickey’s claws started to retract and he let go of the couch cushion. When he opened his eyes and saw the relieved look on Ian’s face, he knew they’d gone from yellow back to blue.

            “Didn’t know I gave blowjobs that good,” Ian joked.

            Mickey shook his head and sat up. “Don’t flatter yourself. I’ve just never had one before.” Then, seeing the look of shock on Ian’s face, he amended, “From a guy, that is.”

            “Oh,” Ian said. He sat down on the opposite side of the couch and scrutinized Mickey for a second. “So I’m your... well, your first boyfriend?”

            “Yeah.”

            “And you’re... bi?”

            “Gay,” Mickey said. “Definitely gay, just pretty damn closeted.”

            Ian nodded like he knew what Mickey was talking about. He looked down and picked at a thread on the knee of his jeans. “I didn’t mean to push you or make you uncomfortable,” Ian said. “I just thought it might be a fun way to teach you how to get your senses under control.”

            “Oh, it was,” Mickey said. He smiled brightly so Ian would know that everything was all right. He even bumped their knees together. “Maybe it was just a little fast, that’s all. We should stick to making out until I’ve got that under control.”

            Ian smiled. “Deal.” Then he leaned over and pecked Mickey on the lips. “Tell me when my kissing gets as good as my blowjobs.”

            Mickey shoved his chin away playfully. “Fuck off.”

            Ian leaned back in for a second kiss and Mickey let him have it, even let him push him back down on the couch again. And slowly, slowly, they made their way towards making out, stopping every single time Mickey lost control.


	9. Vampires, Oh My! - Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Mostly just fleshing out the ending/last paragraph of part one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote the first half of this like a month ago and finished it today, so if the timeline seems a little wonky, that's probably why...

Ian tried his best to stay away from Mickey when he was hungry. Mickey had made his feeding habits very clear – he attacked people; he killed people; he was not one of these only-takes-as-much-as-they-need vampires; people died. So when Mickey couldn’t find a suitable target – a murderer or a rapist or a douche bag who couldn’t take a fucking hint – he told Ian to stay away. Something Ian was more than happy to do when that drought lasted, say, two or three days. Mickey had been claiming to be too hungry for a week and a half now.

            Ian paced the living room while police sirens buzzed by outside. Lip looked up from his spot on the couch. “Restless, huh?” he said. “Mickey really get rid of that much of your pent-up energy?”

            “Mandy really get rid of that little of yours?” Ian snapped. Not that the comeback made much sense. Mandy had been over three times in the last four days and each time she’d shot Ian a look somewhere between apology and _what the fuck is wrong with you._ Ian knew she thought her brother was insane – and she was probably right – but Ian just wanted to see him.

            “Why don’t you just go over there?” Lip said. “Demand an explanation.”

            Ian considered. “Since when do you care?”

            “About you and Mick? Never. Fuck that guy, he can burn in hell for all I care. But you? You’re my little brother. You deserve to be happy.”

            “By that logic, shouldn’t I be happier if he never calls me again?”

            Lip smirked. “Come on. We both know you have a thing for bad boys.”

            Ian frowned. He wished there was something in reach he could throw at his brother but no such luck. His phone buzzed and he went for it, hopeful it was from Mickey, saying the dry spell was finally over, but instead it was a Buzzfeed News notification about a recent animal attack. Probably Mandy’s doing.

            In a split second, Ian made a decision. He pocketed his phone, grabbed his jacket, and headed out into the night. Since dating Mickey, he rarely went out after dark without the other boy. He knew the things that went bump in the night now. He knew Mickey was one of them and could protect him. But alone? That was a no go even if Ian was military trained.

            But tonight seemed safe enough to walk the two blocks over to the Milkovich house. Around here, they were the most dangerous thing, and Ian was more or less on their _do not eat_ list.

            Mandy opened the door and immediately frowned. “Ian.” She leaned against the doorframe and blocked his view of the house. “What are you doing here? You know Mickey’s not... well.”

            “It’s been ten days.”

            Mandy shrugged. “All the more reason for you to stay away.”

            “You really think he’d hurt me?”

            “When’s he’s starving out of his mind? Yes. I do.”

            Ian licked his lips. “Let me in, Mandy. I’ll be fine.”

            Mandy stared at him for a long time and then shook her head. “If I thought there was any chance Mickey actually asked to see you, I might let you in. But he wouldn’t do that to you. He likes you too much. So unless you have a death wish, I suggest you get off my front porch.”

            “You know I don’t have to be invited in to enter, right?”

            Mandy flipped him off with a smirk and slammed the door in his face.

            Ian sighed and stepped off the front porch. He waited a good thirty seconds, made a show of slowly walking away from the house before he turned back and walked around the side of the building. He jumped the fence into the backyard, crept through the broken beer bottles, and peered into windows until he found Mickey’s room. The window was open an inch so Ian stuck his fingers in and pulled it up. He hauled himself inside.

            The room was empty and just how Ian remembered it. Posters were plastered over every inch of the yellow-orange walls and the carpet was covered in clothing. Ian kicked a t-shirt out of the way and picked up the baseball bat lying under it. True, a baseball bat would mean nothing against Mickey, but Ian felt a little better at least having something to ward off a hungry vampire. If said hungry vampire was even here.

            Ian sat down on the edge of the bed and pulled out his phone. He texted Mickey _where are you_ and got nothing in return. He heard a toilet flush somewhere in the house and then, with a bang, the door to Mickey’s room opened.

            Mickey jumped back when he saw Ian, accidentally slamming the door closed and trapping them both. He looked awful. His skin, normally pale, was now so white Ian could see every vein under his skin. His eyes were dark and red-rimmed, the whites almost gone. Dark circles marred the skin under his eyes, too deep to be from fatigue, more likely because the skin was dying. For the first time since Ian had met him, Mickey actually looked like a dead man walking.

            Mickey opened his mouth, probably to say something or admonish Ian, but all that came out was a feral hiss. His fangs protruded past his lips, bit into his own skin.

            Ian stared, dumbfounded, too frozen to even raise the bat or back up. “Mickey...” he managed after a minute. He swallowed hard. “Are you... are you all right?”

            Mickey fought hard to close his mouth and pressed back against the door. A minute passed in complete silence, then another. “I’m fine,” Mickey ground out. “You shouldn’t be here.”

            “I wanted to see you.”

            “I told you _no_.”

            “You’re my boyfriend,” Ian said. “I haven’t seen you in ten days. I was worried about you. I missed you. You can’t blame me for—”

            “For entering a vampire’s lair unarmed when you know there’s a hungry vamp inside?” Mickey snapped. He turned his red-rimmed glare on Ian. “How fucking stupid are you? This isn’t a high school relationship where I have mono and you come to kiss me anyways because you love me. I could kill you. I’m _this close_ to killing you.”

            Ian swallowed hard and looked Mickey in the eye. “I don’t believe you.” He let the bat drop and stood. Tentatively, he took a step forward. “You love me and you don’t want to hurt me. Right?”

            Mickey gave him a look like that was the stupidest thing he’d ever heard.

            “Surely after hundreds of years, you have some modicum of self-control?” Ian approached and laid his hands on Mickey’s shoulders. Mickey went tense beneath his grip, like every single one of his nerves was firing. Ian smiled. “Look. We’re fine. Everything’s fine.”

            “Ian,” Mickey said, his voice shaking, “I’m gonna say this once and only once and consider it fair warning. If you don’t get out of my room in the next sixty seconds, I am going to bleed you dry. Understood?”

            Ian licked his lips. “I don’t believe you.”

            Mickey let out a broken sound somewhere between a laugh and a sob. He leaned back into the door and the whole thing rattled. “It’s not about whether or not you believe me, Ian,” he said. “It’s fucking fact. If you hadn’t eaten in ten days and you came into your room to see a juicy hamburger, would you not immediately devour it?”

            “Hamburgers don’t have faces. Or feelings. And I’m not in love with hamburgers, so—”

            “Which is why I haven’t already killed you,” Mickey said. “But as Mandy has probably told you more than once, my level of self-control is very, very low.”

            “Mick—”

            “Ian, I’m not fucking around. Get out.”

            Ian stared at Mickey for a moment longer before raising his hands in surrender. But instead of backing right out of the room through the window, he undid the top button of his shirt and pulled his collar to the side. “Why don’t you take a bite?”

            Mickey licked his lips, his eyes falling down the curve of Ian’s neck. “Ian...”

            “Just a bite,” Ian said, soothingly. He took a step closer. “You’ll stop yourself. I know you will.”

            Mickey met his eyes, doubt glittering in their blue depths. “This is a terrible fucking idea,” he said. He rested his hand on Ian’s neck, let his fingers flicker through the hairs at the nape of his neck. “You’re a fucking idiot.”

            “I trust you.”

            “Bad idea.” Mickey leaned in and took a deep breath. He pressed a soft kiss to Ian’s pulse point, then another lower down. A low rumble escaped his stomach.

            “Do it.”

            “It’ll hurt.”

            “Aren’t there like, endorphins in a vamp bite? Keeps the victim quiet and limp while you kill them?”

            Mickey’s teeth grazed over Ian’s neck. “Supposedly. Never really stopped to ask.”

            Ian pressed the palm of his hand to the back of Mickey’s head, pulling him closer. He felt the prick of teeth against his skin and then, all at once, a deep pain flooding through his body. He gasped but the sound didn’t quite come out. It took a moment of mind-numbing pain flooding through his whole body before everything went fuzzy and soft. He was vaguely aware of Mickey holding him up, of Mickey backing him towards the bed, of soft kisses on his neck. Then he was out.

 

Ian woke sometime later. It was still dark out. Mickey lay by his side reading a book. Ian glanced over at him. “Hey,” he said.

            Mickey didn’t even look at him. “Hey, sleepy.”

            “That hurt.”

            Mickey snorted. “Told you.”

            “You look better,” Ian said. And it was true. A little bit of colour had come back to Mickey’s face, leaving him looking like a real human who could maybe use some time in the sun. His lips were bright red like he hadn’t remembered to lick the blood off of them. Ian reached out and stroked Mickey’s cheek. “A lot better.”

            Mickey leaned over and kissed him on the lips, hard. He dropped his book, not even bothering to dog ear the page he was on. He rolled over on top of Ian and deepened the kiss until Ian stopped breathing.

            “What was that for?” Ian asked, a little breathless, when Mickey pulled away.

            “A thank you,” Mickey said. “For helping me out.”

            “I’d do it again.”

            “Idiot.”

            Ian smiled and pulled Mickey in for another kiss.

 

Ian came home sometime before Fiona woke up and stumbled in the entryway. Although he’d spent way too much time in Mickey’s bed, resting up after losing so much blood, he probably should have eaten something before walking home. He leaned back against the door and rubbed the sore spot on his neck. His fingers came away bloody.

            Lip barrelled down the staircase and paused when he saw Ian. “Late night?” he joked. Then he saw the blood and suddenly he was at Ian’s side, spreading his fingers and leaning in close to get a good look at his neck. “What the fuck, man. What happened?”

            “Nothing.” Ian batted his brother away. “Don’t worry about it.”

            “You come back from your boyfriend’s house bleeding and I’m not supposed to worry about it?”

            Ian tried hard to swallow the smile that came to his lips but didn’t quite manage it. He pushed Lip back and headed for the kitchen, saying over his shoulder, “Mickey wouldn’t hurt me. You know that.”

            “Do I? Because you’re talking about a guy who beat the shit out of me for feeling up his sister.”

            “You probably deserved it.” Ian pulled a carton of orange juice out of the fridge and started to chug.

            Lip made a non-committal sound – not quite agreeing but not denying it either. He hopped up to sit on the counter and watched as Ian started to make breakfast. “I’m just saying, I don’t like the guy. I think you could do a lot better.”

            “You’ll have to get used to it.” Ian fired up the burners on the stove and bent down to look for a frying pan. “Even if I don’t end up with him, if you end up with Mandy, you’ll be seeing a lot of Mickey. So maybe, just maybe, you want to try to get along with him?”

            “Over my dead body,” Lip muttered.

            “Who’s dying?” Fiona said. She stepped into the kitchen with bed head and her sleep-mask on her forehead. When she saw Ian attempting to cook, she stepped forward and took the pan from him. “What are you doing? You can’t cook.”

            “I’m hungry.”

            Fiona grumbled something unkind and shooed them from the kitchen. As they made their way out the door, she called, “And don’t think I didn’t notice you didn’t come home last night!”

            Lip laughed. Ian elbowed him in the ribs.

            Slowly, the rest of the house woke up. They gathered in the kitchen for breakfast and Ian forgot about his late night escapades, the lack of blood in his body, and Lip’s vendetta against his boyfriend. At least, he forgot until they got to school and Lip curled his arm around Mandy’s waist, pulling her tight and immediately out of Mickey’s reach.

            Ian placed a hand on Mickey’s chest to prevent him from going after them.

            Mickey said, “I really fucking hate your brother.”

            “He’s fucking your sister,” Ian said. “She’s legal. It’s not a crime.” Then Ian paused. “Actually, if anything, she’s taking advantage of him, because she’s hundreds of years old and he’s seventeen, so...”

            Mickey shoved Ian back into the lockers, hard. But then he stepped forward into Ian’s face, leaned in close, and breathed out, “Does that make me a predator too?”

            “You are a predator,” Ian said, smirking. He leaned in and breathed in Mickey’s ear. “Don’t worry. I like it.”

            Mickey shook his head and stepped back. “You’re a creepy ass little perv.”

            Ian laughed and rushed to catch up with Mickey as he walked away. “Seriously though, you and Lip. You guys need to make up. You’re practically family at this point. We should all do something together. Like... get dinner, maybe.”

            Mickey gave Ian a look. “All we do is fuck and all they do is fuck but you think if we all got together and had dinner, that would go well?”

            “Unless you’re saying you want to fuck my brother and your sister—”

            Mickey shoved Ian – probably harder than he intended to – and Ian stumbled into the nearest bank of lockers. Mickey pulled him back by his side without even a nod as an apology but said, “Fine. We can all have dinner together. Tonight.”

            “Tonight,” Ian agreed. He pecked Mickey on the cheek and then disappeared into the nearest classroom too fast for Mickey to catch him.

 

Ian suffered through all of Lip’s protests that night as they got ready to go to dinner. They said goodbye to Fiona at the door – who sternly warned them to actually come home tonight – and walked out into the night. Ian half-wished that they had a car or that the restaurant was closer but he would handle the dark. He was military trained after all and Lip could throw a punch.

            Lip had also been beaten half to death last time he’d taken on a vampire but Ian decided to let that slide.

            Luckily, only two blocks down they ran into the Milkoviches. Mandy threaded her arm through Lip’s and the two of them walked ahead, heads bent together and giggling. Mickey glared daggers at their backs. Ian took his hand to soothe him.

            “Try to get along,” Ian whispered. “For me.”

            “If he touches my sister in front of me, I will actually kill him this time.”

            Ian laughed even though he knew Mickey wasn’t joking and pulled him along so that they caught up with the other two. Lip and Mandy’s whispers were too low for them to hear even a foot away but Ian thought that was probably a good thing. He cleared his throat and Lip glanced back at them, a feral and mischievous smile on his face.

            “Hey, Mick,” he said. “Mandy tells me you actually get straight A’s in school. That you’re a straight up nerd.”

            Mandy elbowed him in the ribs.

            Mickey growled.

            Ian curled his fist in the back of his boyfriend’s shirt, pretending for the moment that he even had half a chance of holding him back. He laughed a little. “Mickey’s brilliant. Of course he’s brilliant. But I don’t think anyone with eyes would call him a nerd.” When Lip shrugged, Ian added, “Plus, if everyone getting good grades is a nerd, what does that make you?”

            Lip glared. “I don’t study.”

            “Neither do I,” Mickey said.

            The two glared at each other for a long moment as Mandy shot Ian a hopeless glance. He wasn’t quite sure if she was on his side in this – after all, she had problems with Mickey – but at that moment she seemed to be.

            “Let’s change the topic,” Ian said. “How does everyone feel about—”

            “Celibacy,” Mickey suggested. He shot Lip a grossly exaggerated grin. “How does everyone feel about _celibacy_?”

            “Oh god, Mickey. Shut the fuck up.” Mandy groaned.

            “What? I just think that discussions of things like celibacy and safe sex and the safest option always being _abstinence_ should be part of our daily lives. And I don’t think it’s a radical idea to think that _not_ having sex strengthens a relationship and—”

            “Yeah, because you’re celibate,” Mandy snapped.

            “It’s different.”

            “What? You’re a guy so you can be a slut?”

            “I can’t get fucking pregnant now, can I?”

            “Wouldn’t it be a different fucking world if you could?”

            “Oh! The restaurant!” Ian exclaimed and pulled Mickey hard into the building. It wasn’t the restaurant they had planned on going to – in fact, it was much fancier even if it wasn’t fancy at all, just an average chain restaurant – but he needed something to cut the conversation short before the fangs came out and Mickey and Mandy fought each other to the death. He rubbed Mickey’s arm soothingly as he stopped at the hostess’ podium and asked for a table for four.

            “Can you fucking afford this place?” Mickey whispered.

            Ian glanced at him and shrugged. “Shouldn’t be too hard.” They followed the hostess through the maze of tables. “You’re hundreds of years old. Don’t you have any money saved?”

            Mickey snorted. “I look like a fucking teenager and a thug. Who the fuck do you think is giving me any sort of money?”

            Ian shrugged and took a seat at the table. Lip, like a perfect gentleman, pulled the chair out for Mandy and Ian silently thanked him for having some modicum of respect for the situation. The group fell into an awkward silence as the hostess set down the menus and then they went on to pretend to examine them closely. Ian could feel Mickey’s knee shaking under the table. He glanced up and saw Lip giving him a questioning look somewhere along the lines of _what the fuck is wrong with your boyfriend_. Ian shrugged.

            After a couple of minutes, Mickey leaned in close and whispered in Ian’s ear, “Has it occurred to you that we can’t eat real food without getting really fucking sick?”

            Ian glanced at him, shocked. “I’ve seen you eat.”

            “Yeah. Fries. Or a soda. Nothing big.”

            Ian cursed under his breath and looked over at Mandy, who seemed perfectly calm.

            “Get a steak rare and it’s all the same to her,” Mickey whispered. “But me?”

            Ian licked his lips. “Order something you can move around a bit and just pretend to eat. You’ll be fine.”

            Mickey nuzzled closer and Ian felt his breath catch as Mickey’s lips moved against his throat. His pulse started beating harder and Mickey let out a small sound of pleasure. “Yeah and what about my hunger?” Mickey whispered, just the edge of a laugh in it. “What are you gonna do to keep me happy?”

            “Be civil,” Ian said, trying hard to keep his breathing under control, “and I’ll give you whatever you want.”

            “Good.” Mickey nipped at Ian’s neck – just a graze of his regular, human teeth – and fell back into his chair.

            “What were you saying about celibacy earlier?” Mandy said.

            “Let’s talk about something else,” Ian said, too quick for Mickey to respond. “Like... school. How’s school going for everyone?”

            “You sound like Fiona,” Lip said.

            Ian smirked. “Thanks.”

            “Let’s talk about your family,” Mandy said. She smiled wide. “Lip’s barely told me anything.”

            Taking the easy out, Ian started to ramble off the names of his siblings in quick succession. Then he went into more detail about each of them, pausing when Lip wanted to add something and getting into petty, playful arguments with his brother about what their siblings were or weren’t good at. Mandy laughed a couple of times and Mickey even cracked a smile. His leg stopped moving under the table and he let his knee sway outwards to tap against Ian’s thigh.

            They ordered and the food came and no big arguments broke out. Ian still felt like he was playing mediator, like he was in a courthouse or something, but he managed to avoid any big disasters. The ones he slipped up on were usually Mandy/Lip disasters, disasters that could have been worse if Mickey noticed, but Ian only slipped up when Mickey was focused on something _else_ – ie. nuzzling Ian’s neck, running his hand along Ian’s thigh, or murmuring dirty things into Ian’s ear.

            When they finished their meals, Mandy insisted on dessert. Mickey grunted and mumbled something about going to the bathroom before getting up. When he was a few steps away, he sent a pointed glance back at Ian who quickly scrambled to his feet with some lame excuse and headed to the bathroom after Mickey.

            He didn’t see Mickey in the hall so he assumed he was already inside. He stepped into the bathroom cautiously, looking for Mickey, expecting him to be waiting in a stall, but then he was grabbed by the collar and slammed into the far wall. He laughed a little as the breath came out of him and Mickey pressed in close, his whole weight against Ian, his lips searching and soft against the long expanse of Ian’s neck.

            “We should get in a stall,” Ian whispered, still laughing. He carded his fingers through Mickey’s hair as the other boy undid the top two buttons of Ian’s shirt. “Someone could come in.”

            “I’ll be fast.” Mickey’s fangs slid out and skidded across Ian’s skin. Ian felt his knees go weak, Mickey’s hand on his ass the only thing keeping him upright. In a garbled voice, Mickey added, “You know how fast I can be.”

            “I don’t think that’s something to... ah... brag about.” Ian bit his tongue through the pain of being bitten but soon it faded into a happy high. If he focused, he could stay conscious for it, he could feel the heavy, strong weight of Mickey against him, pushing him into the wall, letting him grind against his thigh. Ian moaned a little at the feel of Mickey’s teeth in his neck and the friction between his thighs. He tried to move more but he barely had control over his limbs.

            “Mick...” Ian’s vision stated to blur, spot black around the edges. “That’s enough. That’s... enough.”

            The door to the bathroom opened and Ian felt his heart give one fleeting, panicked beat before relaxing again. Mickey didn’t even notice.

            Then, “Get a fucking room,” in Lip’s annoyed, disgusted voice.

            Mickey pulled off but didn’t turn. He licked his lips, his teeth, and met Ian’s eyes. Ian tried his best to focus, to stay on point, knowing there was little he could do at this point but keep it together. He nodded at Mickey who, after brushing his fingers across Ian’s neck, turned to face Lip.

            “Room’s a little far away,” Mickey said, lazy. “Not like you never fucked my sister in a bathroom.”

            “I use the stalls,” Lip replied. “I’m classy.”

            Mickey opened his mouth – probably to say something rude – and Ian grabbed onto the front of his shirt, a little too hard, and stumbled forward.

            Lip frowned. “Are you okay, man?” He stepped closer. “Shit. Is that blood?”

            “What? No.” Ian raised his hand to his neck and the wound there and found it still bleeding. Shit. It usually didn’t do that. “No, it’s just—”

            “It’s fucking blood!” Lip shoved Mickey backward. Ian stumbled forward and Lip caught him by the shoulders, worry etched all over his face as he started to examine the wound. With a curse, he whirled on Mickey and almost dropped Ian. “What the fuck? Why did you do this to him? Why are you hurting him, you fucking piece of shit?”

            “He’s not... hurting me.” Ian leaned hard on Lip’s shoulder, unable to figure out why his legs weren’t coming back to him. How long did he usually pass out for after this? He didn’t know. He wasn’t sure. “Lip, come on, please, we’re having a nice dinner.”

            “You expect me to just let it go that he fucking split your neck in two?”

            _In two?_ Lip had to be exaggerating.

            “Look, man,” Mickey said, holding his hands up in surrender, “you’ve got no clue what’s going on here, okay? How about you just leave us the fuck alone?”

            “Leave my little brother alone with the guy that just made him fucking bleed? Are you fucking kidding me?” Lip tugged Ian hard and said, “We need to go.”

            “Lip, we can’t... fuck, Lip, uhh...”

            “Are you high?”

            “Am I...” Ian let the question trail off as the room spun around him. He almost fell despite Lip’s grasp on his shirt and was grateful to feel Mickey’s hand on his back, keeping him upright.

            “Yes, he’s high,” Mickey said, his voice rough and uncomfortable and filled with something nearing panic. “I’m sorry, okay? I wanted to fuck and he was game and we probably shouldn’t have gone kinky in a public bathroom but we did. He’s fine. You just gotta let me take care of him.”

            Lip snorted. “Why would I trust you with fucking anything? Ian is _high_ and _bleeding_.”

            “You need to trust me with this.” Mickey’s voice got all soft and smooth. “Go back to Mandy. Tell her we left. Eat dessert, pay the bill, and leave. Ian is safe with me.”

            Lip nodded and Ian felt him let go. A few seconds later, the door slammed.

            “You compelled him?” Ian said. He hoped he sounded indignant. He doubted he did.

            “I had to.” Mickey turned Ian to face him and examined him carefully. His fingers brushed over the wound and Ian winced, surprised by how much it hurt. “Fuck. Sorry. I was really sloppy.”

            “Is my neck really torn in two?”

            Mickey snorted. “Don’t think you’d be alive if that was true.” He slung his arm around Ian’s waist and pulled him tight to him. “Turn your head into my shoulder and try to move your feet like you’re not drunk off your fucking ass, okay? We still have to get out of here safe.”

            Ian nodded and let Mickey lead him slowly out of the restaurant. They stumbled all the way back to Mickey’s house and Mickey laid Ian down in his bed. After rummaging through the house, Mickey came back with orange juice and a box of cookies. He slung them at Ian and sat a few feet away to watch him eat.

            “I’m sorry,” Mickey said.

            Ian, less out of it now, wrinkled his nose. “For what?”

            “For doing that in public. For doing it at all.”

            “You know I don’t mind. I kinda like it.”

            Mickey shook his head. “It’s stupid. I’m gonna get addicted to you.”

            “Good.”

            Mickey’s eyes flashed with amusement. He smiled, soft and totally unlike him. “I’m just really glad you’re okay. I don’t want to hurt you. I don’t want anyone to think I’m hurting you.”

            “Hey.” Ian tried to reach for Mickey and failed. He let his hand drop into the empty space between them. “You’re not hurting me, okay? And don’t worry about Lip. He’s never liked any of my boyfriends and he doesn’t know you and you don’t exactly make it easy for him to trust you.” Mickey snorted and Ian continued, “But if I like you, if I love you and I’m happy, then Lip’s not gonna do anything but be a dick, okay? Don’t listen to him. You’re not hurting me. I’ll make sure Lip knows that.”

            “I love you too,” Mickey said, soft.

            Ian wiggled his fingers. “Come here.”

            Mickey stepped across the room and took Ian’s hand in his. Ian tugged him closer, forced him to sit down on the edge of the bed. Ian smiled up at him. “You’re a good boyfriend, Mickey Milkovich.”

            “In three hundred years, I don’t think anyone’s ever said that to me.” He leaned down and pecked Ian on the lips. “Get some rest. I’ll stay and watch you.”

            “Thank you,” Ian whispered. He closed his eyes.


End file.
